Gotham's Finest
by Tatiana Koch
Summary: Michelle Danvers, a Gotham attorney has dedicated her life to figuring out the Joker. When he crashes a party, things take an unexpected turn. R&R.
1. Chapter 1: Party Crashers

Chapter 1: Party Crashers

Harvey Dent could inspire a party, that was for sure. I hadn't seen this large of an event for quite some time, and being one of Gotham's head attorneys, I'd been to some. A tray of delicate flutes passed by, I snatched one. The champagne is bubbly, light, something expensive. Ah, Bruce Wayne and his perfection.

Everyone let out a few gasps when the helicopter landed and he stepped out, his muscular arms wrapped around two beautiful women - Russian models, or something, I'd guess. I'd known Bruce long enough to know that he wasn't really attracted to them in the way he showed off, nor was he the kind of guy who would do that. He was still so attached to Rachel. Ah, poor Rachel.

She was pretty, and Harvey was cute. But something - I still can't figure it out, wasn't fair enough for me to justify it, and to tell Bruce that everything was okay and it would be okay. He loved her too much. And always, I saw these looks between them, that I don't think anybody else saw, but there was definitely something in those looks that said, 'I'm not done. I can't be.' Bruce definitely agreed.

"Michelle - looking lovely tonight."

"I love the dress."

A few compliments whiz by my ears, being replied to with a delicate smile. The blue silk that clung to my body and then fanned out at my calves, was beautiful, even I was guilty of that thought. I sipped my drink casually, looking around, surveyed the faces. Most of them familiar.

I glided across the floor, meeting Bruce head on.

"Michelle Danvers."

A smirk crawls across my lips. "Bruce Wayne."

"How's the party?"

"Its wonderful, as expected. How's your night going?"

"Good… have you seen her yet?"

I sighed, knowing that was coming. "Yes, she's here. You knew she would be."

"Still, its nice to hear. I have to go play a good ex-boyfriend, so I'll see you around."

I smile, give him a slight nod, and stand up on my tiptoes to meet his cheek with a small peck. Despite my reputation, I did like people, I was a socialite - but tonight however, was a different story.

Making my way through the high-class crowds, my eyes locked on the massive glass door, leading out onto the balcony. A good place to relax, collect your thoughts, everything those intelligent people did. Me, included. I had always been a quiet person, spoke when necessary, and made sure my words were meaningful. You wouldn't catch me blabbing off about how my aunt liked potato chips so much that every time I see a bag of 'em I can't help but giggle.

Nope. Not me.

The cold, New York air greeted me, washing over my face like a cool blanket. Below me, the city was busy, alive and unconcerned with the lives of everyone else. But who said they needed to worry? That was our job, the attorneys and the court; Gotham's Finest.

Even through the glass it wasn't hard to hear the shrill screams of suddenly petrified people. And the gunshot - I heard that too. Turning around, I saw people ducking and running to where, I wasn't sure. They weren't going to find cover. Not now at least, not from him. An elderly man shoots off some remark, I can his expression twist and sneer before a pair of gloved hands forcefully grabs his neck, pulling him towards him. The glimmer of a blade, and the wild shout of a mad man.

The Joker.

I shoot down the rest of the champagne and open the doors, just in time to hear Rachel say, "Okay, stop."

Bad move, Rachel, bad move.

"Well, hello beautiful. You must be Harvey's squeeze. And you are beautiful."

I can feel the fright clawing its way up my throat, chunks of fear rising higher and higher as he combs his hair back, swaggering over towards her. Standing behind her was maybe even worse because you knew that he wasn't coming for you, and you were just going to have to witness some gruesome act.

Bruce had disappeared.

My eyes scanned the large, open space but found nothing. I knew where he was, and what he was doing, and where he would soon be. Here.

"Oh, you've got a little fight in yuh'. I like that."

I took one step forward.

"Then you'll love me."

The black, hard metal I collided against was far too familiar for me to ignore, I let out a gasp, looking up into the masked eyes of Bruce Wayne. It was weird knowing a secret, one that only three or four people knew. The gruff, deep voice launched me out of my thoughts. "Go home."

"Oh. Ha-ha. He-he! That wouldn't be fun, now would it? I think, and this is just me," He paused, licking his lips. "that it would be a stupid idea."

Before I could blink, Batman's arm flew up and The Joker went flying, into a white-clothed table, covered in small, delicate lights and flower arrangements. The crowd 'aah'ed' and looked away in fear. The fight was on.

"Aaaah!" He screamed in exasperation and got up. Staggering back and forth for a short second, he finally regained his balance and brushed his shoulders off. My green eyes scrutinized him with such intensity, I gave myself a headache. It wasn't the crimes that made me think, it was his insanity, and how it worked. I didn't care so much that he had it - but how he went about using it. I had watched every video, read every news article a thousand times to make sure I knew everything about this guy, and that was the problem, I didn't.

He was too erratic, nobody could follow him long enough to stop him. Of course, that was the reason he was so dangerous. In my sick, twisted way, I felt the butterflies creeping up, overcoming the nausea. It was like meeting a movie star, or a hero for the first time in your life. With him standing only feet away from me, I saw the chance of a lifetime.

"He's right."

The crowd gasped at my pipsqueak voice suddenly coming through the crowds. Heads turned, and The Joker leaned to the side, peering over Batman's broad, armored shoulder. A wicked smile twisted his scarred mouth, and he took one staggering step towards me. Batman didn't like that, and The Joker was again airborne, flying through the center of the room like a rag doll. Batman lunged at his opponent and missed, distracted by one of The Joker's henchmen, coming at him with a very large gun. People screamed, scattered like mice. I was about to open my mouth again when a soft, clothed arm came from behind, wrapping around my shoulders and pinning me back.

"You see, ladies and gentlemen, she agrees with me. It wouldn't be fun, would it? Because to have a party, you need people."

I snapped my eyes shut as the blade of his small knife slipped in between my lips, pulling backward at the creases. It wasn't enough to cut the skin, but I could already identify the metallic, bitter taste. He licked his lips behind me, a quick, slither of sound. And then, his gloved fingers brushed the hair away from the side of my head, allowing his voice to creep in my ear, sending chills up my spine.

But not in the way I would have imagined. To say that I wasn't scared, would have been a lie. A very big one and considering I tried to stay away from lies, I willingly admitted to being scared out of my wits. But something, no matter how deep it was, made my stomach churn with delight. He was there, the criminal I had dedicated many nights to, holding me, threatening me with his dangerous mind. I had him.

"Tell me your name."

"Michelle Danvers." I replied obediently. It didn't take much for the fright to come through in my voice, but I was playing it up a little - squirming pointlessly under his grip, my hands finding his forearms and tugging gently. Make it look like I was struggling. Nobody was watching us now though - their attention was too firmly planted on Batman fighting off the henchmen like flies to care about me or The Joker, though he was the main threat.

"I like that name. I have one question: do you know the Batman personally?"

I shivered and stiffened, shaking my head slightly. Batman threw off the last masked guy and charged towards us, only to have The Joker pull back on the blade more. I winced and whimpered. It really did hurt that time.

"Ah-ah-ah. Let's not do anything stupid."

Batman, along with everyone else who didn't want to get sliced up by a madman or being responsible for my death froze and watched. After a minute or so of complete silence, The Joker licked his lips again and turned his attention back to me. He walked calmly out in front of me, holding my neck underneath my chin forcefully. I looked down, casting my eyes to the floor.

"Look at me."

I didn't.

"Look at me!" He roared, literally sounding like someone had just placed a megaphone in front of his lacerated mouth. He jerked my chin up, forcing me to stare into his makeup-smeared eyes. They were wild, curious underneath all that black makeup, and for a moment, I was unable to look away, or concentrate on anything but him. The butterflies returned, captivating my mind again with thoughts of his madness and how amazing it would be to unravel it all.

"I like you. You don't seem like everyone else here. I think," He paused, leaning in so close I could hear his unsteady breathing, and smiled. "that, we could get along. Except, I want to know one little question. Something tiny."

I waited, staring him in the eyes.

"I want to know, if you know Harvey Dent or his… whereabouts. I need to talk to him."

_My brain screamed __Wrong person, Joker._ But instead, I shook my head and looked around, playing up the part of confusion, scanning the crowds. I saw many people, but Harvey wasn't one of them. Panic bubbled up my throat, and instantly disappeared. Bruce had probably taken him, and made sure he was safe; knowing Rachel would never forgive him if he didn't.

I shook my head again, and jerked my body against his forearm, pulling harder than I thought possible. He tightened his grip and chuckled, when Rachel jerked forward, slamming into the Joker and pushing him off me. Ah, what a friend. I went skidding across the waxed tile floor, my satin dress sliding along it like butter. Luckily, I stopped before I could crash into one of the tables, and have a tray of champagne-filled flutes come crashing down around me. I would have laughed if the situation wasn't so damn serious.

Several things happened at once, and my head darted back and forth, trying to capture everything. The Joker spun around and grasped Rachel, rushing over to the open window. Bruce snarled and debated charging him, but knew that would end badly for his 'squeeze' as the Joker had called her. So, taking one step, he snarled, "Drop her."

Even I did a double-take.

"Poor choice of words."

And then his hand unfurled, letting Rachel's body drop through the air, sliding along the glass building, her shrill screams drifting up into the room. People scattered as Batman lurched forward and dove out the window. People now thought that this was their chance to escape, me included.

For a split second, I debated which way would be the best way, and the quickest route of departure. I decided that cutting across the room and go the way the Joker had come in would be my best bet considering that all his henchmen had already come in. Unless he had some out there waiting for scared civilians to come running out. My legs didn't seem to move fast enough as I raced forward, heels clicking loudly, though the sound was drained out by every other pair of rapidly moving shoes in the place.

"Let's play a game, shall we?! Lights!"

Gun fires echoed all around, vibrating the floors and the massive glass windows. And then, everything went dark. Every foot step stopped, and I was pretty sure I heard the muffled groans of people falling over each other.

"Eeney, meeney, miney…"

I could hear the Joker's voice, tinted with sheer amusement as he went over the old nursery rhyme, though for what purpose, I really couldn't tell you. I froze, desperately trying to blend in with the rest of the darkened room.

"MO!"

His voice made me jump, but the blood-curdling scream that slowly faded afterwards, was much worse. He had pushed someone out of the window. My all too vivid mind could imagine the woman's frail body slipping down the side of the slanted building, her fingers clawing the glass in vain.

I reach my fingers behind me, to find that I unfortunately hadn't run far in my rushed exodus - the cool glass pressed against my fingertips. I knew, he'd truncate all the people by the windows first, and come up with something else for those farther away.

"Catch a tiger… by its toe." I heard two sighs of relief, much closer to me than I had really wanted to believe.

"If he hollers…" A shaky intake of breath from a man directly beside me had my heart pumping violently. This was it, my death was only seconds away, all relying on the second verse of a nursery rhyme. At least, I would die at the hands of the one I study. The interest of my life.

The smooth fabric of his glove glided over my face, my neck, my shoulders… I wasn't he what he was doing. The gap in between his words though, was much longer and that was a very, very good thing. Postpone my death a little while longer, why don't you, Joker?

And then it stopped. "Let him go!" A hissing giggle echoed slithered to the space right beside me, tickling my ear. Another keening scream interrupted his laughter, and I heard the squeaking sound of sweaty palms sliding against glass, and then only his laughter again.

It took my mind a good five minutes to process what had happened - what he had just done. Without making it blatantly obvious, The Joker had skipped over me and someone else had irrevocably taken my death. They hadn't had a choice, though he did. The nursery rhyme was going smoothly, and then gaped as he skipped over me. Saved my life. Good lord.

"Everybody run!"

I'm not sure who it was that screamed, but everyone listened to him. Below my feet, a thrumming, buzzing noise started, slowly becoming more and more incipient until a back-up pair of lights flicked on. They were dimmer than the first, but gave enough light on the area to assist us in our fleeing.

I took one step, my leg muscles tensing with anxiousness and -

"Ah-ah-ah. You're coming with me." I felt his arm slither around my waist. Out of instinct, I tried to get away, struggling violently against his arms. He groaned in exasperation and spun me around to look at me. "We can do this the hard way or the easy way."

"Oh, and the hard way would be?"

"You struggle, I have to knock you out and then take you."

I felt my stomach tighten. Showing up my attorney courage, I narrowed my eyes and jerked my knee up, coming in contact with the fabric between his legs. I heard a pained laugh, but didn't see it - I took off running. I didn't even know why I was running, I didn't want to. I should, but I didn't. Abysmally, I knew that the thought of letting my body go completely limp and allowing him to take me wherever he spoke about… was highly appealing.

Instead, going completely off the logical-damsel-in-distress part of my brain, I picked up my dress and ran, skittering across the waxed floor. Behind me, I heard him grunting - and made the mistake of turning around to look. He was just standing there, hands behind his back, innocent as can be. He wasn't chasing me, or even trying to. Maybe he had --

"Not so fast, huh?"

My chest came colliding with another muscular surface, looking up. Rubber clown mask, the expression innocent, questioning. The clothes were normal, shabby coats and pants, and I instantly recognized this as one of the henchmen, the many partners in crime. I wondered how many guys the Joker went through in a week, considering he was so ruthless and the most recent bank robbery had claims of having several of this masked marauders dead, littering the floors.

In one second, the guy raised his gun, and thumped it against my chest, causing me to fall backwards, and hit my head. The tile was cool underneath my hair. I shivered. There was already a dull throbbing…

"Did you have to hit her… so… hard? She's gonna' bleed all over that pretty dressa' hers."

I opened my eyes, but my vision was blurry, like a foggy windshield. I could pick up a dark purple coat, and green… and the white face, blackened eyes and bright red lips turning up into a twisted smile.

I did not resurface.


	2. Chapter 2: Warehouse

The air around me was stagnant, and had a stale, dusty smell to it. My head was limp, my chin nearly touching my chest. Moving it was not a good idea, in fact, it was a stupid idea. When I did tense my muscles, attempting confidently to lift it up, my spinal cord ached all the way up to the crown of my head. I failed a few more times before I was strong enough to hold it up.

As my logic brain began functioning again, I finally felt that my hands would do no good either. They were tied tightly behind me, behind the chair. Sudden panic rushing through my body, I kicked and jerked, scooting the chair along the dirty cement floor, but failed in releasing myself.

"Help! Anyone? Hello?" I called out, peering through the darkness. I could see nothing, only the faint outlines of the building's structure. Wherever I was, there was nobody with me, or they had no plans of making themselves known. I was going to have to get out on my own, or die. Two very unwelcoming choices.

And then my memory returned to me, hitting me like a ton of bricks. The party, and the nursery rhyme. And my failed escape - when he said I was going with him. I let out a grumble and jerked my head to the left, and then to the right, a series of cracks following. I had gone with him, and he was here. If he had spared my life once, I saw no reason why he shouldn't again. Or maybe, because I had showed some interest, I was going to get a special, more gruesome treatment. I found myself wanting to have died with the others at the party.

Funny world - I never wished death upon myself. And now, even here, the idea seemed preposterous and childish. Panic was obviously getting the best of me, and in this predicament the only logical thing seemed to be death - but somewhere I knew it wasn't.

I wiggled my hands again, jerking against the rope, or scarf that were binding them. I repeated the action until I felt the slightest budge from the fabric. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard.

"You're not getting out." I snapped my head up, surprised. In the massive doorway, a silhouette, illuminated by the dim fluorescent lighting stood, staring directly at me. The shape itself was general; I could identify that it was indeed male. I jerked against the rope again, making a small grunting sound. The figure stepped forward, and I saw that a rubber, perky-smiled mask covered his face.

"Let me go."

The guy chuckled and continued to come closer, his chubby hands reaching out to touch my thigh. "Sorry, no can do. I can see why the boss doesn't wanna' let you go though. You're looking mighty fine even as the damsel in distress."

I stared back at him, not amused by his greasy attempt at flattering me. I couldn't be sure what my expression looked like, though I was fairly positive it wasn't a pretty thing. I only stared, keeping my lips pressed tightly together. When I didn't answer, his nasty hand ran itself along the exposed flesh of my leg, where the fabric of my dress had fallen to the side.

"This can be fun for you, you know." His voice was husky, making my stomach churn with disgust. As if my state in life wasn't demeaning enough, I was getting hit on my a grimy thug. Wonderful.

I barked out at laugh and he drew his hand across my face, the sound echoing through the warehouse. My head flew to the side, a few drops of blood flying out of my open mouth. My cheek was hot and beginning to swell from his slap, though I was not intimidated. I had a mind to spit in his face and attempt at sending him flying across the room. Regaining my composure, I lifted my head and stared into the mask.

"What did I tell you? Let's not do anything we'll regret, hah?"

Instantly, like a dog snapping to the attention of its master, the clown straightened up and turned around, his hands falling to his side obediently.

"She was mouthin' off boss."

The Joker was suddenly in front of us, only inches away from the guy. The expression on his face was wild and exasperated, annoyed by something so trifle as one of these guys

"I'll deal with her, not you."

With one firm nod, he stuck one foot out and slid to the side, revealing a bloody-mouthed me.

The Joker stretched his lips up into a tired grimace and stared, saying nothing. I returned the action, more interested than I had been all night. Without warning, I sent the tip of my high heel into his shin and grit my teeth. The Joker jerked back, forcing a laugh. He grabbed his leg and for a moment, I actually thought I had done some damage. When my mouth dropped open in shock, his contorted into a smile and his cackle filled the room.

"Feisty." He muttered.

Though my fear wasn't complete faulty, the majority of it was overcome by excitement. Acting like a hyper teenage girl who had just been kissed by a movie star, I fought with myself, trying desperately to decipher the emotions. One was fear, knowing that at any moment my last breath could be taken in this very room, at the hands of this crazy man. The other was a hot, vibrant feeling and it coursed through my veins like poison, dominating nearly everything. How could I be feeling this? What was wrong with me?

"Let me go." I whispered, coughing. This place was dusty and dirty - somewhere I didn't have any desire to being staying. The Joker arched an a brow and looked at me questioningly.

"Let you go? Why would I do that?"

I glared. "Because it won't be long before someone else comes and finds me, and you get booked. That's why."

The Joker chewed absentmindedly on the inside of his cheek, watching me. The amused look in his eye made my stomach churn.

"Riiight. All those cops with their plans to come find you and then, ah - I'm in jail again, hah? Not like I haven't…been there…before."

I assumed that was a rhetorical question; it sounded like one. Even if it wasn't, I didn't feel like answering. When I didn't, the Joker only stared, mimicking my interest - though his, was clearly darker. I ground my teeth once more and my foot jerked out again, this time failing in hitting him. The Joker dodged the kick and walked behind me, coming to a stop behind the chair. I could feel his eyes on me, waiting for my next move. Unfortunately for him, I was done.

He licked and kneeled down, his gloved hands working on the ties on my hands. I inhaled and held my breath.

"You're going to be a good girl and not do anything stupid - like… kicking me again. Though, seeing you all angry… I like it. BUT, you're not going to try to get away. You'll fail. I'll win. Get it?"

Like I was going to agree to that. As soon as my hands were free, I swung my arm around, aiming for his face. I found it, my knuckles crushing against his jaw. I heard the dark chuckle deep in his throat and bit my lip. He grabbed my arm, pulling me up out of the seat and twisting it at an angle I knew it shouldn't be twisted. I winced in pain, fighting off the tears. He pulled me towards him, pressing my back against his chest. I could feel the heat radiating off him.

"Ah-now what did I say?"

"Kiss my ass, circus freak." I retorted, despite knowing that an insult wasn't going to tarnish the Joker's confidence. Through the media, and even his own mind, he probably heard enough of them to not care.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

I snorted and tried to wiggle away, only succeeding in causing my arm more pain as he twisted it. The Joker leaned in close, his mangled lips against my ear. "You stood up… for me… at Harvey's little party tonight. You wanna' tell me why?"

Letting out a few distressed grunts, I shook my head, jerking my helpless body. He pulled closer - I could feel the rise and fall of his chest against my back now.

"A party isn't enjoyable… like you--" I broke my sentence off as the cool metal was pressed next to my cheek, taking in my breath. He hadn't broken the skin, but one more exertion of pressure, and my face would be sliced in half.

"Enjoyable… like me?" His voice was husky, amused in some sick, twisted way. He had obviously taken my remark the wrong way, which didn't surprise me.

I ground my teeth and continued, frightened to let so much as a breath escape. "Flatter yourself all you want Joker, that's not what I was saying. A party isn't enjoyable, like you said, if there aren't any people."

I heard him lick his lips again, gnawing at the scars. Shocking myself with my next thought, I bit my lip and inhaled deeply. The dusty smell of the warehouse combined with the metallic smell of his knife, the clayish smell of his makeup, and my own smell of interested fear. I only hoped I had enough patience to hold me through the night.

With a quick jerk, The Joker released me and smacked his lips, sending a relieved shiver through my body. Walking leisurely around to the front of me, I heard him muttering something - probably something of irrelevance, still I found myself wondering deeply what it was.

I blinked pulling out of my thoughts. The Joker slid his tongue along his lower lip and turned to walk away. I shook my head back and forth and got up, running to follow him. I wasn't quite ready for him to leave yet.

"Hey-hey. So, you're just going to walk away?"

Still keeping his casual pace, he turned and looked at me, arching an eyebrow. I breathed out, annoyed and held up my free hands.

"No handcuffs or anything?"

"You're being… upgraded."

I stopped walking, looking after him like he had just spoken a riddle. Upgraded? What in the world did he mean by upgraded? My hands were going to be bound by silk instead of rope or metal? Clenching my jaw hard, I put one foot out to march after him.

"Huh-not so fast girlie."

The second I turned around, a dull object hit my skull, cracking against it forcefully. Within seconds, I could already feel the consciousness ebbing… fading out. My eyes fluttered a few times, feeling the familiar arms slither around my waist and start dragging me along. My heels skidded along the cement, causing me to stumble a few times. It didn't stop the thug from doing his job, unfortunately.

From my surroundings I could tell we hadn't left the warehouse, and had only gone deeper into its massive structure. Didn't surprise me - there were a lot of broken down, abandoned warehouses like this one all over New York City. Businesses faded and the city never got around to tearing them down.

"Enjoy your stay cutie." He sneered as he opened the door to a smaller storage room. As soon as the door was shut, I let out a exasperated sigh. Being captured wasn't my idea of fun - even with the Joker. I had seen him twice tonight, and that was hardly enough to occupy my mind. Feeling my legs shake with from standing, I fell to my knees and crawled over to a corner and collapsed against the cool brick, walls.

I scanned my surroundings. There was a small light above me, fluorescent and flickering that provided the only illumination for this hellhole. The walls were an off-white, like someone had painted over the bricks. The areas closer to the ground covered in a thin film of dust. A few crates were stashed in the corner opposite me. The door I had come in was metal, and dented, probably from clumsy workers who didn't care about smashing the door with the large boxes.

A sudden burning pang in my stomach reminded me it had been hours since I had last eaten. Maybe even an entire day. I had no sense of time here, the last thing I had thought about was my eating schedule. My mouth was dry too, and had the sticky cottonmouth effect. I was parched, my mind begging for water. The Joker was cold, and so were his henchmen. Room service, or even a simple plea was out of the question.

I forced the thought out of my head, rubbed my eyes and curled up in a helpless ball, letting my mind dissolve into nothing as I drifted to sleep.

_Alright, there's chapter two. I need some serious reviews, otherwise I may discontinue this one. DX Anyways - hope you enjoy it!!_


	3. Chapter 3: Insanity

When people sleep, they say your subconscious creates vivid dreams with all the things that happened previously. Sometimes, these concoctions come out in the form of nightmares, and sometimes they're dreams. But… what would you call something that hadn't happened, but was just as vivid as if it had?

I awoke with a start, my breath rushing out in a startled gasp. For a moment, my eyes were blurred, stinging and dry from all the dust. Of course, now was the time my allergies had to be intolerant and act up. Figures. Letting out a pained groan, I pried my arm out from underneath me, where I had fallen asleep cradling myself and reached up to rub the remaining tiredness out of my eyes.

I bit down on my lip and glanced up to the ceiling, as if that would give me any sense of to how late it was and looked down again, stretching my legs out and tensing the muscles a few times. I had no idea how long I was going to be here and the last thing I needed was to turn into a useless vegetable.

I closed my eyes and let out a sigh, leaning my head back against the wall. Suddenly, the metal door banged open, revealing one of the thugs (thankfully not the one that escorted me here last night) holding a wrapped up parcel of some sort. He stared, making no effort to speak or move.

"Are you a mime?" I asked, looking him straight in the eyes.

He made an odd, guttural sound and tossed the package at me hastily. Giving me one more look, his hand wrapped around the edge of the door and started to pull it shut.

"Hey-hey wait!"

The clown stopped and poked his head back in the door. "What?"

"What time is it?"

Stepping back inside the room, he pulled up his sleeve and glanced at the watch there. After a minute, he returned his attention back to me and replied, "Six-thirty."

And then he was gone, leaving me alone again, with the unknown package.

I looked down at the white-paper wrapped thing in my lap and squeezed it lightly. It was soft and slightly chilled. As my brain clicked together what it could be I let out a gasp and viciously tore at the wax paper, almost squealing in delight when I had finally unwrapped it.

A deli sandwich, oh thank god for food. Shoving the bread and meat towards my lips, I took a large bite. My stomach grumbled fervently, as the brain waves sent alerts to it that there was finally nourishment coming. What a beautiful thing - at least I wasn't going to die of starvation. The heartless clown was feeding me.

I inhaled the rest of the sandwich and crumpled the paper up in a ball, tossing it over by the crates. As if anyone would complain about me littering in this dump. As I sat alone I started wondering what the others were doing and if they were looking for me. Rachel probably knew I had disappeared, and maybe Bruce. If not both, one of them would alert Gordon and I could… only hope that he'd come and find me. And bring the Joker with me.

I was going to get into his twisted brain, just not under these circumstances. Though I hadn't been in this situation before, I think it was safe to say I was not a fan; Joker being the one holding me or not. I had only the confinements of my ever-working mind to keep me company - and even now that would get old. For hours, I could go over the thoughts and information I had on the Joker from my previous meeting with him, just recording every little detail until I was sure I could recite it from memory. And believe me, I did. But once that was done, I was left with the only path I had - recalling and analyzing my frightening, vivid dream.

It didn't make sense, considering I had never been much of a contestant for dreams or even nightmares. Therefore, this was out of place. And its contents were even more inapt.

I was sitting in the interrogation room, tapping my nails against the metal table, waiting. Gordon had said they were going to bring in The Joker - he had requested me to for his questions. Surprising, but flattering nevertheless. So there, in that room I waited. And suddenly, the door opened behind me, and he walked in, two guards escorting him to the other side of the table. They sat him down and turned to leave.

"Can you take those off?" I asked, looking pointedly at his cuffs. There was no point for them here, not with me. If he wanted to hit me, so be it. The guards gave me an odd look, and nodded - the sound of metal unlatching soon followed.

As soon as they walked out, he smiled and rubbed his wrists, looking at me expectedly. I didn't know exactly how to start - there were far too many things I wanted to know. There would be no beginning and no end to my questions, I was left biting my lip and returning the stare.

"You want to know some certain… details about me, don't you?" He asked, leaning forward.

I nodded once, and crossed my arms across my chest, leaning back in the chair. He seemed relaxed, or… as relaxed as The Joker could be, rather.

"I do want to know some things, and since you requested me for your interrogations, I'm going to assume that you are comfortable speaking to me. So why don't you---"

"Ah-ah, now… don't count your little scheming chickens before they hatch."

And then, that was it. I woke up. Why this nightmare was so incredibly trouble was an enigma, one I knew would not be solved as quickly as I may have hoped. All of sudden, I didn't have time to think about it.

The large metal door again swung open, this time, revealing The Joker, jacket off and makeup fresh. With one quick movement, he stepped in, shut the door and strolled over to me. My mouth hangs open, unsure of his next movements. His hands reached down, and gripped the sides of my shirt, jerking me up forcefully.

"What. Do. You. Want?" I asked, struggling to keep my tone strong and unfaltering. Throughout my entire life I had been a confident person, relying on my sense of right and wrong and logic to keep me going. Fortunately, it had worked. Now, that theory wasn't as brilliant as it had been to me in the past.

"I've… seen you on the TV, you know." He paused to run his tongue along his lips. "And… I know things. You're crazy about me - you want to know things. Some details."

A chill ran up my spine, as he said his words, sounding very similar to the words he spoke in my dream. And if he had known about me all this time, then maybe… my mind searched a conclusion as to what was going to happen - of course, came up empty.

"Oh? So, you're keeping an eye on me then? I'd say I'm flattered - but, I'd be a liar. I'm not a liar, Joker."

He chuckled a hissing laugh, and wet his lips again. His grip was still tight on my collar, though he had loosened it a little bit. After a moment more, he let go and I went crashing to the ground with an 'umph.'

As though each and every move was planned - though, I know it wasn't; Joker couldn't be planning anything, I didn't think he was capable of it. But, the door swung open and two of the thugs carried in a foldout card table and two chairs. They set them up, throwing the chairs on each side of the table, glanced at me and walked out, leaving me and the Joker alone again.

"You," he said. "have questions. I have answers." With that, he sat down on one of the chairs and waited. At first, I had no idea what he was implying, but slowly everything clicked together and I stood up, stretching my legs as I walked over to occupy the other seat.

My hands shook with anticipation, though I tried to mask it and hide it by slipping them indiscreetly under the table. The Joker didn't seem to notice.

"Why?" Was all I asked. He pursed his lips and stared.

"That's a broad question, beautiful - aren't you going to give me more to work off of?"

"You know what I'm asking Joker, don't play naïve."

He smirked and let out a sigh. "Why do I laugh so much?" He didn't wait for me confirm the wrongness of his answer, just continued. "Becaaaause, haven't you heard that laughter is the best medicine? Its _good_ for you."

The room fell silent, as we both stared, watching the other intently. Finally, I cleared my throat and looked away, averting my eyes to my lap, where my fingers were tightly laced.

"Why did you start being this… monster?"

"_Monster? _Harsh. Why does this matter so much to you-hah?"

My fist slammed down on the table, causing it to quiver with the force of the blow. "No! You know what I'm talking about - we all do. You're insane, and I want to know why! There must be something that made you this way, and not just your stories about how you got your scars - mind you, I've heard all of the stories, and want to know which one is true - but we'll get to that later. I want to know _why_ you've chose this path, why you think is justifiable and why… just why."

The Joker stared, amused like I was the crazy one. And for a short moment, I agreed with him.


	4. Chapter 4: Dislocate

It was entirely possible that I was mad - that this interest in my studies of the Joker had been taken to the next level now that I had him in my grip. The thought crossed my mind repetitively, bashing away at my insides until I came to terms with it, and decided on one thing. If I was going to go crazy, I mind as well get some information doing it.

"Well?" I prodded, looking him in the eyes.

"I'm not crazy, I'm… not. Everyone seems to think so, but… really." He muttered, keeping his makeup swathed eyes on me every second. I nodded slowly, agreeing - if there was one thing an attorney would come to learn over the years, its that the sane say they're crazy and the insane will vehemently deny it. I was no psychiatrist, but he'd proved my mental diagnosis right.

"Can I have my cards?"

I looked up, surprised. At first, I wasn't quite sure what he was talking about. Cards? And then, my brain laid them on the table, realizing he meant his playing cards - he wanted to do tricks or something, whatever else that stupid clown was going to do. I smirked and crossed my arms tightly, leaning against my chest.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I boring you?"

"No, I just wanted to amuse… you."

I arched a brow. "Oh? Going to do some card tricks, huh? Make the attorney forget her purpose? Well, no, I don't think so. Besides, Gordon isn't too fond of giving possessions back to criminals. Especially slippery little bastards like yourself."

The Joker stared for a split second, and then leaned forward as manic laughter spilled out his lacerated lips. Gently, like a child, he bounced up and down as he giggled, releasing all the amused energy that seemed to invariably radiate inside him.

In between laughs, he said, "Why… don't you ask Gordon… if I can have them?"

I gave him a strange look, ground my teeth and clenched my fists until they ached. Finally, after a few moments, I kicked the chair back forcefully. If he wanted me to ask Gordon I would and he'd get the answer I knew he---

I turned around and stopped dead in my tracks. Both my physical and mental process ceased abruptly.

I wasn't in the interrogation room, I wasn't anywhere near Gordon. I wasn't even close to anyone I knew. Nobody knew where I was - and the last thing I was going to do is ask Gordon if The Joker could have his god damn cards back. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. Just like I should have expected, he had tampered with my mind, knowing that I was more excited than I played off.

At first, I was too embarrassed to turn around and face him and instead, just stood there, back turned to him and fumed like a rabid dog. The anger continued to build up, bubbling and roiling inside my chest until it felt as though a large, searing hole had burned right through my skin.

What a fool. I had sat there, thinking and thinking about how I had waited for this day for years, and what I was going to ask him, leaving him to catch me off guard and make myself look like a complete jackass. Beautiful. Letting out a scream of exasperation then, I spun on my heels, dashed around the table and threw my fist into the Joker's jaw with as much force as I could possibly muster up.

"Very funny." I hissed through my teeth, watching as he laughed and shook off the pain. Through bemused eyes, he looked up at me, smiling widely as though I was missing a joke. Once more, I cracked my knuckles against his jaw and waited for him to stop his laughter.

"Are you going to answer my questions? Since you're in my world and I'm in yours - let's get to know each other, huh?"

I realized then that my tone had the brazen, sardonic tone it held whenever I was interrogating someone. Along with that, came the confidence I had built up over the years. This was it - he was going to get it

"Ooh, look at you - sudden, change, hah? I like it."

I rolled my eyes and snarled, shaking my head. There was no room for flattery, not even from the one man who could do it and make me stutter in excitement. I didn't care about him in the way some of the others did - most didn't care at all. But those who did seemed more interested in his looks than his criminal mind.

I could see where he could have been attractive, at one point, before his face was sliced in half by whatever story was _actually_ correct. In his normal state, as the man he was before, he probably was a good looking guy. Sympathy boiled up, but I swallowed it down, ignoring the feeling.

"So, tell me. What makes you so dangerous, huh?"

"Explosions and all the… threatening business you mean?" He asked innocently.

"Aside from the obvious - we're both intelligent here, Joker. Let's not play games." I replied, still standing beside him. He watched me, never took his eyes off me. Slowly but surely, it started to creep me out.

"But… games are fuuun."

To say that I hadn't spent hours at the gym just preparing for this day would be a lie. I had worked and worked until I was sure I was nearly as strong as any modern day guy. Maybe not Batman with his toned perfectly featured physique - but I sure as hell had enough muscle to do this.

With both hands, I pushed his chair backwards, the legs skidding against the dirty cement floor. He crashed into the wall, by the corner where I had previously sat and I followed closely in front of him, placing my black (now dirty) high-heeled shoe on the chair in between his legs.

"Okay, you're right. Games are fun. We can play a game."

He arched an eyebrow and wet his scarred lips. "That's the second time you've… agreed with me tonight."

Like before, the mean attorney that everyone in Gotham knew came out, and the ferocious beast inside of me boiled up. Narrowing my eyes, I slapped my hand over his mouth, and pressed down hard, leaning my face a mere inch away from his. "I'm sorry, did I say you could talk?"

He raised his eyebrows, contorting his face into a perfectly innocent expression; one that I had no intentions of falling for. I could still see the amused interior of his emotions, probably from goading such an unsafe, uninhibited reaction from me. As I stared, he held his hands up in defense, and I finally let go and backed off, keeping my foot on the chair.

"Let's play Simon Says." I swallowed, catching my breath. "Simon Says, answer my questions."

The Joker looked at me for a moment, gnawing on his scars. He pointed a gloved finger towards me and arched an eyebrow. "Are you Simon? Because… I don't think Simon would be too happy if he knew you were using his name against me."

I stared, keeping my guard up. I had to admit though, he was funny. Still, despite that and me wanting to, I had to fight off the smile and keep my hard exterior. Two could play at that game though - and if this how this twisted interrogation was going to be, I would play along as though was no tomorrow.

"Simon and I are great friends." I retorted, smirking.

The look that I gave him, and the one that he returned made my entire frame shiver like a leaf in a hurricane - this was it. The day I had been waiting for since Gordon told the Batman about his little 'calling card'. The day I had studied up for like a little, ditzy, nerdy teenager in high school that was painfully excited about an exam coming up - this freak had consumed me, and nearly all of my social life and now… here he was, staring up at me, ready - I hoped, at least - to answer a few tiny, itty-bitty little questions.

Taking a deep breath in, I looked down at my hand and turned it upwards, facing the ceiling. Across my palm, a faint, crooked red smile tainted the skin there - and sent an electric shock throughout my system.

"So, tell me Joker - what are you thinking about, right now?"

_This was a short chapter; sorry about that everyone! But, on a lighter, more pleased note - thank you!! Thanks to everyone who's added me and my stories to their favorites and watch lists - makes lil' ol' Michelle feeel wonderful! Now, a lot of people have given me some reviews - and now, I'm going to do a little personal thanking. (Some of these are from previous chapters, sorry for confusion. I'll keep up on 'em now!)_

_**rikkukirst: **Thank-you, thank-you! I won't discontinue it - I had no idea that so many people were enjoying it. Glad to have you addicted!_

_**BeckoningDistaster: **Thanks, and yeah - I realized that. I have a feeling I know exactly which sentences you're talking about and those were mostly just an awkward, Michelle thought. But thank you!! Help is always equally as wonderful! _

_**godoflight: **Hehe - glad you like it. Thank you so much. I love you even more for saying 'chappie'! xD_

_**Selene**: Hahaha! Thank you so much, I'm glad you think its a good portrayal of him; I tried to keep the Joker to the Joker and not have him become the sex icon he is. Hah - and as for your question... well, you'll just have to wait and see-hah? There's.... there's no fun in revealing the plotline beforehand._


	5. Chapter 5: Sanity

It was indeed a hard task; trying to focus on one thing when something else was presenting itself entirely. The Joker looked around, gnawing away on the lumps on skin that covered the inside of his cheeks - and watched me. There was something in his shifty eyes that could have portrayed several emotions. Confusion, interest, exasperation, I couldn't tell you them all if I tried.

Maybe I was looking in too hard. When I was younger, and couldn't figure out a problem in school, my mother would always say I was thinking too much and it was far more simple than it seemed. Maybe this was a similar situation and the Joker wasn't quite as complex as he thought.

"Thinking about… jokes, I've… I've heard lately."

I rolled my eyes. We were going to get nowhere if all he did was ramble about jokes he had heard lately. Still, being the obsessed attorney I was I stored that piece of information in my brain and pressed on, sliding my foot deeper into the chair. The tip of my heel brushed against the fabric of his pants. I heard the amused, intrigued chuckle erupt from deep inside his throat. I definitely wasn't afraid to do some damage if he refused to cooperate. Call me crazy.

"Oh, really? Any good ones?" The tone was sarcastic.

"No… not really. Gotham's… dead when it comes to humor." He looked up, lifting his brows, as if proving a point. "Its people like you… that seem to," he licked his lips and whisked his hands through the air, creating a brushing motion. "not get my jokes."

"Oh? Well, I think its your plans that we don't get. You just create all this chaos without any reasoning or plans behind it. Nobody understands it."

The Joker's face fell, as though I had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world; though he didn't laugh. Interesting, I thought.

"Why does everyone think I have these plans, hmm? I don't. And as for your little… frustration - well, maybe if you actually thought about things a little more… used your brain like nobody else in this world, you'd understand my 'scheming' as you call it."

Without hesitation, I threw my fist into his jaw one more time, this time, coming in contact with the side of his cheekbone. In all honesty, I think I did more damage to my hand than his face - as always, he just laughed and shook it off, returning his glance to me.

"The hitting isn't… isn't gonna' help. You're pretty vicious for being so beautiful - you remind me of Batman. All that physique and mystery, and yet he's like an evil creature underneath… so… _craaazy!_" He shook his head back and forth, wildly making the last word quiver and shake in its pronunciation.

My hands lashed out, gripping his shoulders tightly and pressing his back to the wall. I could feel the muscles in my arms twitching with anticipation, pulsating with adrenaline.

"Crazy? Crazy!? You think Batman is crazy, Joker?"

The Joker stared, amused once again that he was goading this wonderful reaction from me. I bit my lip and continued. The pitch in my voice got lower and lower until it sounded like I was growling, literally snarling into the Joker's face.

"Well, maybe you're right - maybe he's absolutely insane. But let me tell you something…" Carefully, like a little girl approaching a venomous snake out of interest, I leaned my face closer to his, to the point where I could feel his steady breath washing over my face. I shivered.

"We're all mad here."

The silence that followed after my words, though it couldn't have been more than a minute or two, was utterly long. It felt as if the world had stopped turning, and was simply waiting for this to unfold like the sick, twisted puzzle it was.

Still in very close proximity to his face, I removed one hand from his shoulders, moving it towards the side of his mouth, pressing it against the uneven skin there. The Joker watched, now truly interested; I could see the flicker of excitement in his dark eyes. After another long moment, I pressed my fingers harshly into his scars and drug my fingers across his lips, keeping my eyes locked on his.

He wasn't sure what I was doing, and neither was I - at least, not yet. As soon as the pads of my fingers met air once more, I smiled, and if at all possible, I could feel the darkness that lurked within my system. Maybe this is what everyone was worried about - worried about his insanity rubbing off on them.

Letting out a chuckle, I transferred my fingers from his lips to mine, and swiped them across my own, smearing the bright red face paint against them. I could feel the grease paint plastering against my cheeks, like a disease that needed a host to survive, to be as vibrant and frightening to its full potential. It had found one.

"Welcome to my world." He whispered back.

--------

At first, I only stared. Nothing else seemed to register in my brain, just his eyes - and the assumption, the welcoming that he made only moments ago. Like a statue of sorts, he stared back, watching me and waiting for the reaction we both knew was on the verge of breaking through.

The confluence hit me like a wrecking ball, smacking against my internal organs with intentions of damaging them permanently. Another emotion, something I had nearly forgotten about in all my workings, bubbled up, refusing to be ignored. My breath caught in my throat and sent me sputtering, jerking away from him.

Wildly, I stumbled back - crashing into the table, and fell flat on my rear, gaping up at him incredulously. Though words hadn't been spoken, it felt as though I had learned more in those few minutes than I would have if he had given me a biography of his life. Slipping my tongue outside of my mouth, I ran it along my lips, wincing as the greasy taste of the face paint tainted my taste buds.

"Careful what you…" The Joker stood up, slowly but steadily and walked over, taking a thin knife out of his pocket. Instantly, I arched my back, pressing it against the leg of the card table, which skidded against the cement flooring against my sudden weight. Without further ado, his hands slipped the blade in between my lips and tugged fiercely at the left crease in my mouth.

He jerked it once, and the crease was suddenly burning, stinging. The rest of my revelation of what was happening in slow-motion. The color drained out of my face as I sat there, crouching and helpless against the floor, staring up into his eyes. He tugged against my cheek once more, and I screamed out, whimpering against his grip. It was a small incision, much like a paper cut but I still could identify the feeling of my flesh being sliced apart.

Panic spread through my eyes, pupils dilated with the sudden, vicious fear. He leaned close, and gripped my cheeks, pressing his fingers deep into the skin. His thumb dug into my cheek, pressing the skin against my cheek and causing the blood to well up, both into my mouth and outside of it.

"Be careful what you wish for… hah?"

And then his image disappeared from my view as he stood up and walked around the table. The only sound following that was the massive metal door slamming against the cement framing, locking in place. That was it; I was alone. I was alone… with my newly discovered sense of sanity.

-------

_Alright, that was a fairly short chapter as well; apologies! Things will pick up very quickly in the next few chapters, promise._

_**Selene:** So glad you're enjoying it; and yes, yes - this chapter did have you in mind. ;D Glad you enjoyed the clown ass-kicking, there might not be very much of it for a few chapters, but we'll see. Looking forward to hearing your review! _

_**Rikkuhirst: **Aww, haha. Well, The Joker is always unbeatable - Michelle just refuses to believe that yet._


	6. Chapter 6: Conference

The room was illuminated, visible by the fluorescent bulb above me, but the darkness consumed me. From the inside out, I could feel my system, my body and mind being corrupted by every thought that floated around, battering my insides. I could not shake the disease that was captivating my senses, and pulling me into the only oblivion I would not be subjected to. The one I had thought of, but never considered a reality.

My fingertips tingled from wiping off his red paint, running ragged over his scars. I could feel the paint on my lips, greasy and present, like a poisonous sludge that threatened to sink into my pores, like a tattoo that I could never remove. Both his memories and his face paint would remain with me, tainting my every thought.

Like someone had just struck me, slapped their hand hard across my face, I flinched and let out a yelp, crying out nothing in particular. The skin around my mouth stretched, and the dried blood that had started coagulating around my corners was now broken once more, and the blood dribbled down my chin, stinging.

I reached up and touched my pointer finger to the cut, examining it without any visuals. His knife had torn the skin far enough that upon pushing my finger inwards, I could feel the separations between my lips, where they were previously connected. I was no Joker - and it would heal, if I didn't lick it and tamper with it like he always did. I grit my teeth and exhaled, wiping the blood off tentatively with the back of my hand.

I had gotten closer to the Joker than anyone else - I was fairly sure. His DNA was smeared all over me now, covering my lips and part of my lightly shredded cheek.

What had happened to my firm, poised attitude? The void it left was filled with the pathetic, frightened image of a little girl who just saw a gruesome murder and could do nothing about it, or witnessed her father striking her mother out of a drunken, delirious rage. Something that could not be undone and would remain until death.

Death. And earlier I had been wishing for it. Oh, I'd be so lucky.

After several fitful screams and thoughts, I got up and forced myself to walk around. Though my legs shook and my heart stuttered with exhaustion I roamed the room until I could roam no more. I got bored, bored of having nothing to do, having to deal with the quiet tedium of my own personal hell. My mouth stung every time I wet my lips, trying to preclude them of becoming chapped - it didn't work; the salt from my tears only made everything worse. My eyes burned, and cried out for Visine.

I did this for hours; commented silently on the issues my body was having, the thoughts I refused to listen to, and the other ones that consumed my mind completely. How crazy could that be? I sincerely believed I was lonely, and needed somebody to talk to. I'd get along with myself - so why not engage in some opinions with mine truly, no?

Suddenly, the door opened - and the Joker stood, his stance crooked and patronizing. My body was instantly friable, though I swallowed the urge to cower back into the crates, stepping away from him.

"W-o-w." He muttered, turning the word into three syllables. He rolled his lips in and out of a smirk. "And I thought you would have collapsed by now-uh like, a little… a little sick, weak animal."

I glared and crossed my arms, my tongue slithering through my lips, goading a good, stinging wince. He grinned, as if he knew something I didn't.

"Addicting, isn't it?"

"Excuse me?"

He singled out a finger, directing the purple-swathed leather towards me. He was pointing at my lips - and unconsciously, I did it again, licking them.

"That. That." He confirmed, watching me sneer in disgust. Internally, I ordered myself to stop that, a habit I would have to break. If I ever got out of his grip alive, I would not be an attorney who was constantly slithering her tongue across her lips and reminding every one of my clients - or victims - of the Joker.

"Just wait until you have a mouthful of smiles - you won't be able to stop."

"Wait until?" I repeated, narrowing my eyes.

He nodded, and turned his head to the side, tilting it down slightly. His black surrounded eyes bored into me, stunning me. I knew then, he meant when and there would be a when for my "smiling." No, I shook my head back and forth several times. I would not become a freak… a freak like him.

"In your… sick, twisted NIGHTMARES!" I darted forward, and in the midst of my running, I gripped the flimsy chair and rushed towards him, bringing it up over my head. All in a fraction of a second, I cracked the chair across his shoulders, one of the legs hitting him in the neck. Bingo.

He didn't fall, he just stumbled and howled with laughter. The door behind him remained open, and if only I could duck underneath him and ---

"HAH!"

He cracked my head against the wall, and pressed his hands tight into the base of my throat. Within seconds, I could feel the airway closing up, the oxygen spilling out of my lungs. The feeling of his fingers wrapping around my neck was exhilarating in all the wrong ways. I gasped and clawed at his hands, trying and failing and trying again. Then, he pressed his cheek against the side of my face, his scars sliding and undulating against my cheek as he breathed. Letting out one last chuckle, he hissed in my ear and jerked his hand forward, tightening my throat even more.

"Huuuuuh - you'll…pay-pay for this…you… frea-" My sentence was truncated with a violent, gasping cough.

"Aht-daht-dah. Talking isn't the best idea for you right now, hah? Oh-oh aaand -be careful what you tell your little friends tomorrow, you've got a lot of power and -and see, if you say something and jump to conclusions - you'll regret it and… and so will they."

My next gasping, ragged words were met with a sudden, sharp pain that sent a wave of numbness throughout my entire body. I struggled to keep my breathing steady as I inhaled and fought to exhaled. Through the narrow, flickering slits I called my eyes, the image of his face started to blur, and sweat collected on my forehead. The room behind him bucked and swirled, and odd, uneven lines slashed across my vision. For the second time, and one times too many might I add, I saw the nebulous image of two black eyes, and a bright, crimson smile. With one last breath, I blacked out, falling into his arms like a doll.

Last thing I remembered - or better put, the last thing I was wholly conscious of was his jacketed arms supporting me, and adjusting my weight within them.

----------------------------

The room was dark. My mind was darker. The sweat littered my limbs, soaking my skin and plastering the dark red sheets to it. My breaths made an odd, ragged sound as I exhaled, phlegm and blood coating the inside of my lungs. I coughed a few times and sat up, propping my weight up on my elbows.

Though the first few minutes of my consciousness was hazy and painful, everything slowly subsided, allowing me to take in my surroundings with composure. The bed was on the far wall. An expensive, glass desk was pushed against the wall opposite the bed, accessorized with a computer, and countless amounts of manila folders and papers. To the left, a dark hallway, walls painted white, lead out into a living room. Though none of the lights were on, I could easily find the outline of the room. To my right, an opened door gave me a view of a beautiful bathroom, jade-colored tile and all.

I was home.

Upon going to my bathroom, I found that my now slightly crooked smile had been tended to; cleaned and bandaged. I could only have guessed who did it. Regardless, I hopped out of bed, giving a few unnecessary triumphant cheers; I was alive! There was something beautiful within that very statement, and it could fuel me for the next year of my life, it felt.

The phone rang and rang, demanding an answer.

"Hello?"

"Michelle, Gordon."

"Ah, Gordon - wonderful to hear a… sane voice." I replied, letting out a relieved sigh. I don't think I had ever been happier to hear the commissioner's voice.

"I'm sure. Its good to know you're alive and well."

"Indeed. Is there something you needed to talk to me about?"

Gordon cleared his throat and his tone was suddenly serious. "We've sent a car over to your house, it'll be there in twenty minutes. You're sure you're prepared for this conference?"

My eyes bugged out of my head, jaw dropping slightly as I heard his words. Conference? What? When I had given the okay for a conference? What was I even going to say?

"You don't have to do this." He prodded, obviously eager for an answer. However, I was not one to turn down a conference; I had only been successful getting one twice in my career - both of them thanks to The Joker. Now, he had given me another chance - and I couldn't help but wonder how he did it.

"No, no, I'll do it. Um, Gordon?" I asked.

"Yes?"

"How did I schedule this conference?"

He seemed baffled by the question, as I figured he would be. For a moment, he didn't answer, I could only hear his steady breathing. Finally, after another second of thought, he said, "You… left a note on your door. Apparently you knew we'd come and look for you after the party - but since you went off and tried to find The Joker, you figured you'd be kidnapped and so on, but you'd be back today…"

Shock coursed through my body; what kind of a scheme is that? It sounded like a childish, unstable plan - but considering The Joker had delivered me today and I did disappear after the party, it had worked. Now, I only wondered how he gotten a hold of my handwriting. No matter - that wasn't important.

"Right - sorry, my head got bashed around too many times last night."

"I understand, you don't have to remember all the details."

With that, I said my goodbyes and hung up the phone, eagerly racing into the bathroom and preparing myself. As always, I dressed in something professional but not too dressy, assuring the press that I meant business and was not there for show. It was being held at Gotham City Hall - all the more news reporters and magazine editors that would show up considering a location like that.

Out of curiosity, I lifted the bandage and peeked under it, viewing it in the mirror. The cut was very slight, and could not be seen unless someone was really looking for it. Still, I knew it was there and could already make out the changes it had gone through overnight. The edge of it was turned up, scabbing over already into a crooked, upturned quirk, resembling a smile. I was not surprised.

Letting out a sigh, I replaced the bandage and finished my prepping - there was no point in dwelling on the past, only the future. It wasn't long before the horn of my scheduled car honked twice out front of the penthouse.

----------------

"Miss Danvers!"

"Michelle Danvers, how is it that you escaped?"

"Do you have any insight to the madman's inner workings?"

"Did he harm you?"

"What's under your bandage?"

Between the snapping of cameras, and the questions, I finally felt like the professional, serious attorney I had been only days ago. It was shocking to me how quickly your mind could be altered - and still now, I knew something wasn't quite right internally.

A young woman with fiery red hair held up her pen, alerting me that she had a question. Ah, courtesy. I pointed to her, nodding lightly. Everyone else quieted down for the time being.

"You've had a firsthand experience with the Joker; do you think Batman can stop him and allow Gotham sleep at night once more?"

I thought for a moment, and returned my glance to the podium I was perched in front of. Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawes stood beside me on one side, Gordon on the other. All three of them had been kind enough to support during this, Gordon suspecting that the potentiality of me having a breakdown was very latent.

"The Joker cannot be stopped with our current state of mind." I paused, allowing the reporters to scribble down my words in their shorthand, decoded later for the newspapers. "He may be insane, but I promise you - he is far more intelligent that we give him credit for. Still, he is a vicious, pitiless man and will stop at nothing to cause an aggressive amount of chaos and therefore, getting The Batman."

By this time, everyone knew that The Joker's main interest was getting to Batman, and provoking him to reveal his true identity . I let out a breath and continued.

"The last few nights, I have been very fortunate to get a small peek into his mind; as many of you know was my longtime interest in doing so - but let me tell you, there is a thick, enigmatic coating on his mind and his objectives, if he has any at all."

That concluded my answer, and more arose almost instantly. I picked on a similarly placed girl, blonde hair, glasses, looking more eager than I thought possible.

"Did the Joker show any affection towards you at all - or was it complete ferociousness?"

My mouth parted slightly, and I felt the momentary sting of the cut trying to split again. Quickly, I shut my mouth and cleared my throat, trying desperately to find an answer within myself. Somewhere in between my thoughts and other's questions, I remembered something the Joker had said to me yesterday, just before I blacked out.

_"…Oh-oh aaand -be careful what you tell your little friends tomorrow, you've got a lot of power and -and see, if you say something and jump to conclusions - you'll regret it and… and so will they."_

His words suddenly echoed in my head, and I understood what he meant. This press conference - I had to watch my harsh, eager tongue in speaking too many things - perhaps even questions like this, though it didn't seem probable. Instead, I answered her question with another one.

"Is it even possible for The Joker to show affection? Does he know what that is?"

Several people chuckled and I shot a few camera men a smile, hoping that it would distract them and the blonde girl enough from pursuing more information about the question; though internally, I was.

Even despite my remark, I didn't know how the Joker would show affection if he wanted to, maybe by bringing the person into his world, like he did me when he welcomed me. Or perhaps, he'd scar them. Absentmindedly, I reached up and pressed the tips of my fingers to the bandage, pressing down on the lumpy scab beneath it. I loathed how he could present so many questions, and not give a single answer. Not to a single one.

------

Alright, here you go. This chapter was more of a... plot-introducing one, if you will; apologies if it got tedious! More action (and clown-ass-kicking for Selene) coming in Chapter 7!


	7. Chapter 7: Distraction

"Miss Danvers," This time, it was a gray-suited man, glasses covered a pair of also gray, timid eyes. In my years, I had established that I could determine whether or not someone could pose a logical question just by the way they approached me, held themselves and made eye contact. This was one of those guys.

"Yes." I replied, giving him permission to continue.

"Although you previously stated that the Joker was vicious and merciless; do you think there is any way he can be brought to justice and if so… how?"

In my head, I could picture theories I could up with, and see how well Batman could execute them, and possibly be considered a clairvoyant hero. Still, the task of saying something that could be proved wrong - and therefore allowing the press to direct the chaos back to me - wasn't the most intelligent idea out there.

"You know, I'm no physic - and this very well could be wrong, but… The Joker is unbeatable. He will never die."

There was a collective groan of disapproval throughout the crowd. I was suddenly severely aware of all the cameramen, eagerly recording my words, all the photographers, freezing this moment in time. I inhaled deeply and continued, dispersing my sudden uneasiness as quickly as possible.

"Sure, we could kill him, throw him behind bars or even commit him to Arkham but I assure you, that will not be the end of it. There will never be a true end to all this madness, all this sporadic cavorting he does. He may be put to justice, and Gotham City and its residents can consider themselves free of his insanity, but he will not leave our memories. He thrives on that and he thrives on our reactions to all his cha--"

It happened very quickly. Several deep rumbling sounds distracted me, truncating my sentence. They shook the floor harshly for a few good moments, so much that one might have thought it was an earthquake. Hah! Hardly. Everyone panicked, looking all around and then finally, someone looked to the left and gasped, alerting everyone else that that was the point of interest.

The reflective windows of one of Gotham's many business buildings were rattling, quivering violently, so much so that they were visible to even us on the other side of the street. Everyone watched in horror as a second later, the glass of one large window was blown outward, followed by another one next to it.

Several more detonated in order, and then with a sudden bang, all the windows in one section had been blown out, and done so in a definite shape. It was the blonde interviewer who realized what it was.

"Is that… is that the Bat Signal?"

The alarmed murmur of my previous crowd picked up, becoming more and more prominent. Some people even decided on leaving, and made their way to the doors. I was no longer the interest, and nor was my monologue about The Joker's permanent success level; not that I minded - why would they listen to someone else when the potentiality of having a firsthand experience on their own presented themselves.

More explosions continued outside, cars this time and more people began panicking. I rolled my eyes and slouched my posture, exasperated. Half of The Joker's fueling was all their madness, how everyone lost their mind at the slightest mention of danger. If for one second… they stopped, ceased all the frightened activity - now there, there's something that would tarnish the Joker's enthusiasm. Maybe for a split second.

Beside me, Gordon muttered something into a microphone and then pushed me towards the back door, escorting me out. Harvey did the same with Rachel, and it wasn't long before I was in the midst of fire engines and police cars, and a plethora of frazzled citizens. This was the Gotham that people knew - and unfortunately, people thought that Batman could fix with a few good punches.

Batman had been glamorized gratuitously throughout the years, all the little boys and girls having this faulty, cartoon super-hero image in their hands. Of course, he was a hero, but with a darkened past, and as The Joker proved now; not always the head of the game.

"Get down!" Harvey slammed into me with brute force, pushing me to the sidewalk below. I was about to protest when a very near car exploded, sending several police officers flying. A few more people let out some screams, and scattered, completely ignoring the previously shouted out commands by Gotham's Finest.

Rachel was beside me, having being pushed down by Gordon. Her eyes were annoyed, similar to mine, though her face and posture showed more fear than anything else. Not to say that Rachel Dawes wasn't a strong woman; she definitely was. Working alongside her had proved that - and now… a situation like this could have even me cowering. Somehow though, I knew he'd do something.

As firemen flurried around the now incinerated car, I got to my feet and brushed myself off before extending a hand to Rachel, helping her up. She did the same and then crossed her arms, waiting for the next event to unfold.

"Harvey, take Rachel home. Or to the office - something, anything! Some place she'll be safe. I'll get Michelle back to her apartment and meet you back here in an hour."

Harvey nodded firmly and gripped Rachel, towing her down the street with his wound tightly around her. I gave them both an encouraging smile and returned my attention to Gordon, who had hailed one of the many police cars. This one was a larger vehicle, more and very roomy inside. Before getting in the car, I gave the burning bat signal one last unsure glance and let out a sigh. There was no stopping him.

Gordon had always said I should be a cop; I had the determination and viciousness that was needed to be really successful. I always preferred to use my passion to convict and determine those who had been brought in - and not actually being an officer. Still though, Gotham's Finest, I always considered as my backup plan if my attorney life didn't work out. Fortunately though, I wasn't planning on changing job titles any time soon.

As the car took off down the street, meandering through the crowds swiftly, I leaned my head against the back of the seat, letting out an unsteady breath. I could feel the sweat collecting on the sides of my head like little beads of dew in spider's web. And I was the spider, living in someone else's web - The Joker's web. If anything, I had become more an accomplice to him that a mere victim. I could have ratted him out, and told them everything about my stay in his little 'hideout'.

For all I knew however, it was temporary and would once more be unoccupied. There was nothing set in stone that I could give them, despite me wanting to. I wasn't even sure if I had withheld any information from them today - none of the questions were direct enough, I supposed. They might have gotten deeper and deeper if the conference continued…

"I think you should take a day or two off."

I opened my eyes and tilted my head upward, staring at Gordon like he had just spoken a foreign language. "Take a day or two off? Nah, I can't. I'm fine anyways… there's no point in wasting time. I mean, there's criminals out there who need to be interrogated, defended and convicted, yes?"

Gordon shook his head, smiling lightly. As an older man, he was very likable. From the first day I set foot in Gotham City and began earning my way up the ladder, he was very kind and supportive. He had come to know me, and therefore knew what I thought about work.

"Its not really my place to say, but you need a break. Its not every day that someone gets kidnapped by the Joker."

I arched an eyebrow, contradicting him.

He chuckled and continued, revising his sentence. "Alright, well - lives to tell about it."

"I'm just… lucky, I suppose. Maybe the Joker wasn't feeling as malicious as normal - and I was the victim. Oh, fortunate me." I muttered sarcastically, winking at Gordon. We both knew that luck had nothing to do with it, and there was something deeper in that sense. Though it wasn't mentioned, my brain pounced on the thought and thoroughly devoured it, ripping apart it's contents like a carnivorous animal ripping apart it's prey.

Would you be surprised if I came up with absolutely nothing?

_Apologies for the shortness; this was... slightly tedious and for that I apologize. Things will pick up quickly._


	8. Chapter 8: Struggle

_Ah, a quick note before I begin. Firstly, I'd like to thank Klaus Badelt for his brilliant work in the Equilibrium Soundtrack - as Encounter and Supression inspired a lot of this chapter. Secondly, this chapter... in my opinion was the motherload. I loved writing it, and loved the feeling it gave me. I did end it at an awkward, hanging-by-a-string sentence there, but... it was worth it. I had to give all my lovely, beautiful watchers a little anger. Chapter 9 will come soon. Read and Review! :D Thanks so much, once again. I LA-LA-LA-LOVE YOU ALL SERIOUSLY!_

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My penthouse had never been so frightening in all the time I had been in it. Every little sound made me wince and jump, the paranoia that swirled in my system like poison contested to take over. Every few times, it won.

I clutched the cup of hot tea closely, not minding the momentary burning it brought my palms. Now clad in a dark, violet-colored bathrobe, I tried to make myself feel at home. Gordon had talked me into taking a day off, and now the only thing on my agenda was relaxing. I had tried every method of therefore pacifying myself; taking on everything from laying in the dark with candles to take a warm, aromatic bath. Though my body thanked me and seemed relaxed, my brain was still as lively as ever. There were definitely times where I regretted not listening to my mother when she talked about meditation.

I plopped down on the couch, and brought the cup to my lips. The warm scent filled my nose, reminding me of older days where things weren't so hectic. I shook off the memories and took a long sip, enjoying it while I could.

Absentmindedly, I grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV, almost instantly being greeted with an image of me, standing in City Hall. I looked professional and composed, which was good. I watched the entire scene of events play out again, up until the last cameraman got a shot of the burning building - and then, panned back to my face before rushing out the door. GCN went onto the next news headliner.

I however, did not - and hit the rewind button, thankful for the modern technology of today. As soon as my face came back into view, I crammed my finger into the pause button and studied my expression. Though the image was blurry from having been in motion, the defined look in my eyes on my lips was very evident - anyone would have caught it.

Like a naughty child who had just blamed her sibling for breaking mother's vase, I had a devious, knowing look tainting my eyes. My lips were parted in a sinisterly amused smirk, the corner with my cut pulling up slightly higher than normal. The mask of innocence I had swathed my face with was faulty, and did not convince me.

I let my eyes fall from the TV screen. Tentatively, I reached up and slid my fingers underneath the bandage, caressing the gash in my skin gently. It was healing quickly, and up until now I had nearly forgotten it was there. How I could forget that such a sick mark on my skin was there, I wasn't sure. I cursed that freak for scarring my face with his stupid knife.

Diverting my attention from the floor back to the screen, I held my breath. Despite the fact that my documented smile wasn't pleasing, it didn't bother me that I did it so much as it that I didn't remember doing it. I was completely unconscious of grinning at the Joker's absurdities - and that worried me.

All of sudden, snapping into my subconscious, I got the creeping feeling that someone was watching me. Of course, on turning around, my suspicions were wrong, and there was no one in this place but me, myself and I. What had gotten into me? I wasn't in a thriller and nothing was going to jump out at me. I had locked all the doors and windows previously, I assured myself of that several times.

"Nothing to fear but fear itself." I muttered, knocking back the rest of my tea and pushing myself up off the couch. This hot liquid was working in calming my inner demon, so to speak, and distracting my mind from the things I knew were inevitably going to return. Things like the Joker and the well-being of Gotham City. I couldn't help blame myself for today's escapades, even if the logical thought that he would have done it anyway battered around in my head. It was infantile to blame myself, I was aware but unfortunately, the thought rooted its fingers deep into my brain, holding on tightly.

Knowingly, I did try to rid myself of any negative thoughts; they wouldn't help me or the citizens of Gotham tonight - and even if they could there was nothing I could do that would successfully alert them without alerting the one they feared along with it. I supposed I could call Gordon, tell him things… but I wouldn't be surprised if that circus freak had my phone lines tapped or something. He was crazy, but he sure knew how to create havoc. Brilliantly, might I add.

I refilled the bright red tea kettle and put it on the stove, turning the burner on high. For a moment, I absentmindedly stared at the flame, flickering and dancing under the kettle. I had seen so much of that warm thing called fire today, it was almost painful to have it in my own home. Blinking, I let out an exasperated groan. How ridiculous, could you get? It was a stove for Christ's sake - that's what it did.

I was obviously letting my unstable side get the best of me. Why? I couldn't be sure, although I knew that getting the Joker this close was more than I had expected. Sure, I estimated that he'd be a slippery, conniving excuse of a criminal, but I don't think I had created such a visual danger level as was being played out. Once again, I knew he'd be dangerous - but not like this.

Why wasn't Bruce doing anything? Fact of the matter was, everyone knew the answer. I could see his face, twisted in confused pain, fighting for the right answer within himself. Batman only had one rule and that was that he would never take someone's life. The Joker had goaded such a reaction from Batman when he said that everyday he didn't turn himself in and reveal his identity, people would die - that every single day had become a struggle, fighting for him to do what's right.

Batman wasn't killing the people directly, but he blamed himself for being responsible for them. Still, he tried, and tried to save those people and keep his identity. Some days he failed, some days he didn't. Days continued to pass, and for Gotham it seemed as if the only real answer was to reveal himself; end all the murders.

I let out a sigh and shook my head dismissively. As I had declared before, there was nothing I could do as of right now to stop all crime in Gotham, and lock the madman behind bars. I couldn't help Batman, or Bruce Wayne figure out what was right, though I knew Alfred had the answer, and would guide him subtly as he always did. Whatever deluge of mystery was preventing Bruce from deciding correctly, would eventually disintegrate and reveal itself.

I rinsed my cup out and retrieved another tea bag from the cupboard, plopping it into the mug. I didn't have to wait long before the kettle screeched with temperature, alerting me that it was ready. Silently, I wrapped my hand around the handle and lifted the spout, pouring it into my cup. The steam rose up into the air, swirling and curling like ghosts. I dipped the tea bag in the water several times, letting the flavor undulate in the cup. Finally, I tossed the bag away and wrapped my hands around the mug and turned around, fixing to return to the couch.

"One lump or two, hmm?"

I froze, staring into the shadowed space in front of me, into the hallway that led to my bedroom. The voice that had spoken was thick and not my own. The owner took one half-step, and the light from the window in the hallway slanted down across his face, sending a beam across the lower portion of his face; illuminating his bright, red lips. That was all I needed.

The mug slipped from my slender fingers, sliding along my palms until it fell through the air and shattered against the floor, large chunks of black ceramic skidding along the tile. The tea splashed up, and then fell in slow motion. Everything was in slow motion, even my heart beat.

Th-thump-thump. Th-thump…thump. Th-…thump…thump. Th-thump… th…ump.

"You look nervous." He whispered, emerging completely from the shadows. "Are you nervous?"

My stomach lurched, bucked and roiled as I stared, hands still locked in the position they were, as if they were still clutching the now-shattered cup. I couldn't force myself to move, not if my life depended on it. Every inch of my being was petrified, more frightened than I had been in my life. I couldn't find it in myself to clarify why.

He took another step forward, kicking his foot out and then planting it firmly on the floor. I watched, horrified and motionless as he continued this motion several times until he only one or two feet away from me. His dark, manic eyes glinted in the light, and his mouth turned up menacingly.

The second he took his next step, I was gone, darting underneath his arm quicker than I thought I was physically capable of. He spun around, hands shot out and gripped my bathrobe, jerking me backwards. I felt the tie loosen in the front, and knowing that if that robe was removed, I would be left standing in something inappropriate.

He held me fast for a moment, until I finally wiggled free, clutching onto the robe viciously. Though my muscles could - and they were working accordingly - my brain refused to comprehend that I was engaging myself in a demented pursuit with the Joker, in my home nonetheless.

I raced down the dark hallway, keeping my eyes locked on the partly open door ahead. Within a few seconds, I hurled myself into my bedroom and --

The door slammed and something _else_ slammed into me, knocking the air out of my lungs. I went flying backwards, gasping for air and landed harshly on my bed. The room was pitch black, but light was not necessary to identify the man that had my frail body pinned underneath his. His hands - indeed his hands not covered by his purple gloves - gripped my wrists and pulled them above my head, smacking them down into the pillows with amazing force.

"Did you run track in your school years - hah?"

I swallowed and jerked under his body, trying to release one of my hands. He chuckled quickly and secured them tighter, like human manacles. I stared up, forcing my eyes to pick out flickers of light in the darkness, and met his eyes. The white makeup was very visible in the dark, and his eyes seemed to glow in the dark.

"You're pretty fast for a girl, you could really do some damage in the Olympics."

"Cut the bullshit, Joker." I hissed, thrashing up against his body violently; a weak attempt at freeing myself.

"Ooh, language." he scolded, turning his head to the side patronizingly.

"How'd you get in here?"

"I used the front door." He replied, very curtly. The innocent expression he had had yesterday returned as he eyed me in the darkness of my bedroom. My wrists were starting to ache from the pressure he was exerting.

"Are you delusional? Oh wait, what a silly question. Of course - but, I locked the door."

He arched an eyebrow, questioningly. "Are you calling me a… liar, Miss Dan-vers?"

I jerked and bucked, struggling against his weight - and mind you, I wasn't too keen on finding out just which part of his body was keeping me down - and failed once more, knowing that he was a man, I was a woman. There was a very rare case in which the second was stronger than the first.

"What… if I… was!?"

"That would hurt my feelings - coming… coming from such a powerful woman like you, I mean," he paused, pulling his lips into an awkward, crooked smirk. "That… would just be a slap across the face."

"You're done with me, why can't you just leave me…" The volume of my voice raised, continuing until I was literally screaming the words into his face. "LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!?"

The Joker leaned his face close to mine, as he did before back in the warehouse, and whispered, breathing against my face.

"Shush-shh-shush-shhhh. Oh, but I'm not. I'm really not done with you. And, to top everything off like the little cherry that destroys the sundae - you're. Not. Done. With. Me."

His words haunted me more than they should, and sent a convulsive shiver down my spine. The Joker laughed, a hissing chuckle and adjusted his hands, wrapping them tighter around my wrists. I winced, recoiling away from whatever I could.

"You see Michelle… there's a world out there, one that you're deeply involved in, and one that I unconsciously intend to take you away from."

"Excuse me?" My eyes grew wide, mouth popping open slightly. Several things pulsed in my brain, each and every one scaring the living hell out of me.

"Oh yes - you know exactly what I'm talking about… don't you?" He continued, his words washing over my face like a gaseous poison. "Your little perfect world with all your schemers and your friends, like… Like HARVEY. You're just peachy to them and they'd never imagine that you could turn on them, like you will. Like you did today."

"NO!"

He shushed me again by squeezing my wrists. "You saw that smile on the TV. That revealing smile that you've got a little… craaazy in you, don't you?"

The way he uttered the word 'crazy' made it sound like a sexual, tempting term, and again, goaded another reaction from my body. He knew I had seen the smile, caught on tape and paused on it, chastising myself for doing something like that. But crazy? He was crazy, I wasn't. Big difference.

"You're a madman, you have… n-no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh? Well, I believe the image is still frozen on your TV set, shall we go look and confirm my madness, hmm?"

"Leave me alone, just leave me alone." I cried, pleading with him now. I felt something, collecting at the corners of my eyes that I hadn't felt since I was a child. Something wet, and salty - something that showed a sign of being weak, and frightened like a little animal that knew there was no hope for survival as it looked into the eyes of its predator. I felt tears.

One cascaded down my cheek, swirling in a watery ribbon of pain. I heard the sound of his breath being pulled inward through his lips and stopped to think. Was he shocked, maybe regretful that he made me cry? I doubted it. For a mere second though, that tiny, absurd thought gave me the most comfort I had all night.

"Get the hell out of my house, leave me alone. Just go away, you're done with me - there's tons of other innocent people out there to torture, Joker. I'm not a freak like you and I never will be."

He didn't answer for a moment, and leaned up, pulling his face away from mine. I let out a breath and waited, staring up at him as though he held my life in his hands. Which, in looking at the whole picture from a different perspective, he did.

Finally, when he did reply, the tone was amused, casual and not what I expected.

"Are you a gambler?"

"What! No. What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"Alright-alright. Let's make a little bet, hah?" His eyes widened playfully, like a child's. I again clamped my lips shut, refusing to reply to anything just yet.

"You say that you won't become a freak… a wacko, LIKE ME. But… I say you will - and I'm a man of my word. So, if you can find it in yourself, dig deep Dan-vers… and tell me that you're done with me and you never want to see my ugly face again…"

Slowly, the Joker leaned in, closer than he had before, and breathed out against my face. He readjusted his hands, situating them so one of them was free, but both of my hands were still contained. Lightly, gently even he reached down and ran a hand along my cheek. Then just as quickly, he gripped the sides of my face, pressing his fingers into my cheek and puckering my lips.

"I'll leave you alone."


	9. Chapter 9: Gone

"I'll do a magic trick and ah-make myself… disappear." He leaned in closer, so close that I once again, felt his lacerated lips against my cheeks, my nose, and my own lips. I forced down the feeling of being sick all over myself and him, back into my stomach. As another tear escaped, I closed my eyes and drew my breath in, holding it.

I opened my mouth, all the words in my mind ready to pour out in a vicious influx. My mouth gaped open and closed slowly, like a fish gasping for air. I had words, tons of them that would have tarnished anyone's confidence; cruel, evil words and…

I couldn't say them.

I stared up at him, wide-eyed and hurt, like he had just admitted to killing my family. The initial shock of realizing that even though I wanted to, I couldn't say it, couldn't admit to never wanting to see his face again. I bit my lip and inhaled through my teeth, refusing to say anything else.

When the Joker saw that his little bet was in his favor, he laughed wildly and gave my cheeks another good squeeze. "Ah-hah… hah. Now, y'see that… wasn't hard, was it? WAS IT!?"

I whimpered and closed my eyes, struggling to turn my head away as much as I possibly could. He seemed thoroughly satisfied and pushed my head back into the pillow further before he released my face. In a split second, he was off me, off my bed and standing up, walking strongly towards the door. Suddenly, he stopped, his shoulders stiff. Though the majority of his body did not move, The Joker turned his shoulders to the left slightly, and swiveled his head around, meeting my eyes in a strange glare.

"Here's… my card. When you realize that the only way to live in this world is without…"

"Rules." I muttered, finishing the sentence I had heard before. My stomach churned within me, as if someone had planted millions of little glass shards in there, and there were now slicing and moving about. I had never felt like this - and probably never would again.

"Smart cookie." He whispered, and reached in his jacket pocket, wherein he slipped a single card and flicked it over his shoulder. The card flew the air and landed on my bed, right beside my thigh. I didn't bother moving to pick it up. With a hissing, almost inaudible laugh, and a flap of a long, purple jacket, he was gone.

The previous encounter had left me shaking, shivering with a dark mélange of emotion. Every little thought that pulsated through my brain was not pleasant and nearly every one I tried to get rid of. The Joker's words were troubling, and dark - and each one seemed to linger, repeating itself in a whisper of an echo. What worried me even more that the whispering words were residing only in my brain, and not in reality.

I didn't know what the Joker's main point for breaking into my apartment and torturing me both with his words and his actions; though it wasn't mainly painful torture, I knew that could be considered torture. I rubbed my wrists torpidly, letting my green eyes glaze over. That could possibly leave a bruise, he had squeezed them pretty hard. What had he meant when he said I wasn't done with him? Of course he could be done with me, and not have anything else to do with me - but… me? Why wasn't I done with him! That made no sense at all.

Letting out a groan, I rubbed my eyes. He wouldn't make any sense. That's the last thing the Joker would be capable of. Maybe that and… affection.

I had no direction as to what I should do, or how I should handle this. First off, calling Gordon or Harvey, or even Rachel…

Rachel. I could call Rachel.

Forcing energy to every level of my body, I turned on my side and wrenched the phone off the receiver that resided on my bedside table. Thinking for only a moment, I quickly dialed her number, punching my fingers into the keys.

It rang once, twice, three times and finally picked up.

"Hello?"

"Rachel." I breathed, relieved.

"Michelle? Is everything okay?"

"I need your help. I mean… I think I do."

She inhaled calmly, waiting. There was something I always admired about her; though she had been in some pretty hairy situations like myself, she always managed to keep a cool, composed demeanor. We shared that. Or, we used to.

"The Joker was just here. In my house."

"Oh, for Christ's sake. Why is he bothering you, still?"

"I don't know… I think he… I think he thinks I'm going crazy or something and… I'll be his sidekick or something. I have no idea, but… I just… I don't know what I should do." Though that remark wasn't something I was too keen on admitting, it was the truth. Rachel was my friend, partner and therefore I knew I could trust her.

There was a silence on the other line, I had feeling Rachel was debating my situation as well, probably no better off in the decision department than I was. Lucky me that I was being stalked and tortured by the Joker. Some part of me wanted to consider myself fortunate, and think, 'Oh my god, this is a once in a lifetime experience, why am I wasting it?' I knew though, this was a once in a lifetime thing, and possibly could be the last experience I ever had.

"I don't think you should be alone at the house, is there anywhere else you can go? Have you called Gordon?"

"No, no. I don't want to involve more people than I need to. All popularity aside, I'm not really in the mood to be considered the Freak of Gotham's new point of interest."

She chuckled and let out a sigh. "Well… how about… Bruce? His penthouse is one of the safest places in Gotham, I should know I've been there once or twice."

"Hah, I'm sure you have. This isn't really necessary - all these safety precautions. I don't think the Joker is coming back tonight."

After a moment of silence, Rachel finally replied, letting out a defeated sigh. "You're probably right. That freak won't make an appearance twice in one night--"

"Not a private residence he won't." I cut her off, chuckling lightly.

She joined me in my chuckling and told me that if anything went wrong, I could always call her or Bruce and know that I could be safe whenever. I thanked her and said my goodbyes.

Fortunately, I had several things that could now occupy my time and more hopefully, my brain as well. Nearly running into the bathroom, I shed my clothes and turned on the hot water. The steam filled the glass shower within seconds, and I slipped in, almost grateful for the burning sensation. I did not stop the hot water from hammering down on my body, and welcomed all the pain it brought. Distraction. After shampooing my hair, scrubbing every inch of my body and making sure that every trace of the Joker had been removed, I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around myself. Working rapidly, I rushed into my bedroom and turned on all the lights, and got dressed, slipping into a pair of black silk pajamas, outlined with white. Something my mother had gotten me last Christmas; she was even so kind to get my initials embroidered on the pocket.

Towel drying my hair, I looked into the mirror, and examined myself. My features weren't special, I wasn't a model, but some people considered me beautiful. How did I consider myself beautiful? I was beautiful when there was a thin sheen of sweat on my forehead, and my eyes were locked on a previously convicted criminal - I was beautiful hen I had that obligation of proving their innocence, or locking in their sentence. That was when I was truly beautiful.

The cut was almost healed now, and fortunately, didn't look like it would scar up. I would not be tainted physically by the Joker and his twisted mind - though I didn't doubt the possibility of him coming back and making me 'beautiful' in his mind was there. Shivering, I touched the scar and looked away from the mirror. There was no point in dwelling in the past or worrying about the future; the only thing I could do beneficial to me right now… was live. Now.

I walked into the kitchen and began cleaning up the shattered mug, tossing the fragments into the trash can. Shame, that was one of my favorite coffee cups. How trifle that matter was now, though it still made me laugh. My entire life had been hanging on a limb, and here I was, chuckling about how my preferred coffee cup was broken.

I wiped up the tea, and rinsed out the kettle, repeating my previous actions. I wasn't going to have another encounter with The Joker - at least, I didn't want to, so I rushed over, occupying myself with the locks. I even assured myself by slipping the dead bolt into place. Try to pick that, Joker.

As my water was boiling, I mulled over the options of what the Joker could have meant. Some of them were stranger than others, but more probable. Others were just downright frightening and I was sure they had surfaced from the hellish depths of my mind.

One; the Joker had taken a liking to me (whether or not it was through attraction, I couldn't care less) and he wanted us to be… together. Partners in crime, if you will. How he was going to get me away from my job, as he said he would, I wasn't thinking about that.

Two; he was simply torturing me because I reacted so vibrantly. Therefore, if I stopped doing anything, maybe became more interested with him, acted happy or something of the like when I saw him - he'd stop. But that still posed the fact that there were a boundless supply of other innocent Gotham civilians who would give him a much more amusing reaction than me.

Which meant - this whole shenanigan had something to do directly with me.

Option three was that he was in love with me. There, now, I could laugh. And I did. The thought of the Joker loving somebody was like seeing an elephant stand on the head of a needle, the world and its logic would not allow it. Personally, the thought of having a deranged circus breakaway dreaming about me in his sadistic nightmares was more than unnerving. I swallowed down the nausea and continued on with my option hypothesizing.

All in all, when the night was done, I was curled up on the couch, having finished off my third cup of tea, I had no more ideas or courage than I had when the Joker had first left. This enigmatic whirlwind had left me completely clueless - and for once in my life, solutions were not visible - and I had a feeling they wouldn't be for a very long, long, long time.


	10. Chapter 10: Resurfacing

_Ah, you lucky duckies! I have quite the plethora of surprises shoved up my sleeve - and those you will see, eventually. Now, for this chapter, apologies on it being rather short, but as before, it was more of an introduction to more of the plot. And - if you catch what's **really** happening to Michelle - give yourself a pat on the back and be proud, cause I know some people won't. I LOVE YOU GUYS - AS ALWAYS! Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, favorites and watches! You keep me going!_

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"You've reached Michelle Danvers- leave a message after the beep."

_Beeeep._

"Michelle, its Harvey. Turn on the news. Rachel called me, told me everything about what happened… keep yourself safe. We need you out there."

_Click._

I stared, motionless as my machine processed the new message, and flicked on its alerting red light, blinking periodically. Prying my stiff hand from underneath me, my fingers crawled along the coffee table, stretching to retrieve the black plastic item. When I found it, I slid over the rubber buttons, and pressed down on the largest one. My TV flicked on. It was still on the news, remaining from last night.

GCN flashed breaking news alerts, and showed shaky video clips of the city's most recent destruction, submitted by civilians who happened to capture the chaos with their cell phones. At first, I couldn't tell what exactly what the problem was, or what was going on. I arched an eyebrow, not moving from my curled up position on the couch, and stared, uninterested at the screen.

But then, as the network switched to a more professional, visible video, I saw. In front of one of Gotham's banks, the sidewalk was hidden behind a massive line of flames. Within this fiery inferno, I saw the faint outline of different cars, burning and melting.

"Authorities say that though the situation is under control, they have not established what is causing these explosions." The black-haired woman suddenly ducked, covering the back of her head with her hand. Another explosion erupted from behind her, this time, a small white sub-compact car, jerked up into the air, and then quickly fell, the sound of crashing, popping metal pervading through the scene.

"The Joker." I muttered. My voice sounded small and far away. I knew that having sat in the same position for hours probably wasn't beneficial to my health, but I could do nothing more than this, like a broken, hurt animal who only wanted to be submersed in darkness and left alone.

I couldn't believe, me of all people, was capable of harboring these wretched emotions. But it was all to a point, and completely necessary. Wasn't it? Yes. Of course, I shouldn't even bother myself with questions like those.

I closed my eyes, drowning out the audio from the TV and confined myself to the depths of my mind. It was dark, and cool - similar to the warehouse I had been locked in. I meandered mentally along, just touching the inner workings of my brain, feeling them out. My mind was cold, as if there was a heavy breeze, constantly blowing through it, whisking clouds of dust and grime into my cerebral caverns.

The Joker was there, smiling and laughing, though I couldn't see him. His laughter was keening, raucous and surrounded me, the sound wrapping itself around me like a blanket.

I wasn't sure when I fell asleep again, drifted out of consciousness, or what time it was when I finally woke up. My dream though, I did remember. It was short, but it replayed itself in my head several times, like a broken record, skipping over and over and over.

"Are you ready?"

I turned my face down, keeping my eyes as far away from him as possible. The attitude that coursed within me did not feel right. It wasn't who I thought I was. I felt conflicted, torn between these two people, and these two choices. I couldn't figure what I wanted more. And he wouldn't let me think.

His gloved hand slammed into my face, throwing it to the side with brute force. I couldn't say anything so instead I winced, and reached up, scooping my wet, disheveled hair out of the way of my eyes.

That was it, that was every last detail of my dream. It repeated, and each time, nothing changed, it was always the same. Over the duration of my slumber, I subconsciously became exasperated and bored of having seen it so many times. Though, when I woke up I had the feeling of being kicked in the stomach, and falling to the ground as the air swept out of your lungs.

As soon as my eyes opened, I coughed and sputtered, like someone had forced too much water down my throat, expecting me to swallow it quicker than humanly possible. My hands wound themselves around my stomach, muscles aching from being in the same position for far too long. I couldn't fix myself, this feeling, no matter how many deep breaths I took, the pained feeling residing in my stomach did not go away.

I realized several things within the next few minutes, and one of which, led to more thoughts. Those thoughts yelled at me, screaming out my name and provoking me to investigate them. I denied them and let them skitter away like roaches in an old abandoned building. But I knew, they'd be back. They wouldn't go away for a very, very long time. I knew one thing… and that thought was a mere, simple demand.

I had to move. I had to get up and out of here. And, I had to catch him.


	11. Chapter 11: Schemers

_Alright, everyone; here's chapter 11. Apologies for the shortness and whatnot - but I've been rather busy with all the holiday madness. Now that Thanksgiving is gone, I have a few days to work on this, but along comes Christmas. BUT BEFORE THAT! THE DARK KNIGHT ON DVD! Woo! You can bet that'll boost my inspiration. Anyways, the next few chapters are going to be really action-packed, so watch out for 'em. Thanks again to everyone who reviewed!_

_**Laurenmlbc: **Ah, you're catching on! The previous chapter have been rather... close in contact, in both physical and psychological. Anyways, ending this thing once and for all? Maybe. Being with him? Bigger maybe. You'll just have to find out! ;) Thanks again for reading, watching, and everything. Plethora? Haha, I have tons of words like that. Thanks, though!_

_**rikkuhurst:** She definitely is battling her sanity, you've got that part right. However, no, she's not going to become Harley Quinn -- or at least, she doesn't want to. I don't think I'm going to turn her into that either, its not really her style, more or less, I don't think she's capable of it. BUT ANYWAY! You'll just have to wait and find out! Thanks so much for reading, watching, etc._

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"What do you mean we're going to catch him? Michelle," Gordon said, baffled. He reached over, and pulled his cup of coffee closer, bringing it to his lips for a small gulp. "Its twelve in the morning - I don't think The Joker will be rendezvousing around at this hour."

I was so immersed in my thoughts, and all the previous revelations that I didn't realized that Gordon had spoken, and it took me a minute to reply. I diverted my eyes away from the swirling tendrils of steam that curled up from the cup and blinked, swallowing.

"He's always rendezvousing Gordon, he's crazy. Therefore, I sincerely doubt he has the same sleeping schedules as us."

I had proved a point, Gordon knew. He looked down and leaned back in the chair, debating. There was obviously the problem of just _how_ we were going to get him at this hour - he could be plotting madness in wherever it was he stayed when he needed a break. I had gone over every possibility and still, my answers were weak. They needed more, more fueling, something else to get him to come out. Something big.

"Michelle, you don't look so good, are you--"

"I'm fine." I snapped, cutting him off. I didn't care if I didn't look as pristine as I always did - there was a more important, pertinent matter that needed to be dealt with.

"Alright, alright. So, you're serious about this, so I mind as well join in. How do you think you're -- excuse me, we are going to catch him?"

I mulled on that, chewing on my bottom lip nervously. Considering I was a woman, and with that, more powerless than a man like Gordon, or Bruce.

A light flicked on in my brain. Bruce Wayne… equaled Batman. Batman was the one person who, if possible, could take The Joker down. He was also the only person that the Joker was really interested in, and, the reason for all his chaos - or so it seemed. If there was another motive behind that, we didn't know about it - and probably wouldn't.

"Batman." I muttered..

Gordon looked at me, a lightly colored brow arching up from behind his glasses. As he stared and I did not answer, my plan continued to boil. I had it, I could see every aspect of it. Though it was crazy, I decided that was exactly what we needed to catch someone of his type.

"There will be a party, a large event… and Batman will be there," I paused, leaning forward. "You can get him, flash the Bat Signal and tell him about it. This weekend. Just like Harvey Dent's - the last event that the Joker crashed because why?"

"Because, there was rumor that Batman was going to be there."

"Exactly," I confirmed, nodding firmly. Gordon was catching onto my plan. His soft eyes showed a devious glint of understanding and I smiled, leaning back and crossing my arms over my chest.

"So, it will actually be a party, but… a ploy in all."

"Right. Do-able?"

He nodded, taking another large sip of his coffee. It was considerably odd of me to call him at twelve in the morning, and demand that we meet at my office immediately. Gordon, being the Commissioner of Gotham Police department, could detect that tone - the urgent, professional one - in my voice and knew it was something important.

"I'll call you tomorrow with the details tomorrow then, I'll come up with a few more things and lock it in." I had to be careful around Gordon, considering he knew Batman as Batman and nothing else. Still, I'd call Bruce in the morning and talk about it.

"Sounds good - but before you go… tell me what happened with The Joker, would you?"

I leaned back, inhaling through my teeth. I imagined the topic would come up at one point, but truthfully, I was hoping that I could postpone it until a later date. Letting out that breath I had just inhaled, I looked at Gordon, biting my lip.

"It was nothing too severe, I mean, the situation obviously could have been a lot worse."

"Well, something happened - that's enough."

"He just… broke into my house and tormented me a little bit, something about him not being done with me, and vis-à-vis. I don't know how he got in, or what the hell he was talking about… but it won't happen again. There's nothing he can do now - we've got him."

"You sound like a little girl in a candy store." He chuckled.

"Hm, I suppose you could call me that." I joined in on his chuckling, glad that the mood had been lifted and was not directed on the previous subject. There was more to that event that I was letting Gordon know, obviously - but he didn't seem too interested, or thought that I was hiding something. All the better.

Internally, I was battling with myself, fighting off several influxes of thoughts and choices. I was traumatized by the Joker's words, because I knew - though I wasn't positive exactly what it was - something had indeed hit a nerve. I couldn't help but wonder what everyone would do, what Gordon would do if they knew everything that was going on.

"Alright, well… as long as you're safe. That is, after all, my job as commissioner of GCPD." Gordon gave me a small, timid smile and stood up, snatching his coffee cup and tossing it into the nearby trashcan. I mimicked his actions and lifted the coat off the back of my chair. He nodded and walked towards the exit.

"I'll call you in the morning. Oh, and Gordon?"

He turned, stopping in the doorway.

"Thank you." I muttered, giving him a genuine smile.

Sometimes, little words like that, honest words meant so much. Lifting his corners up into a smile, he nodded and shut the door behind him. For a moment, I stared at the door, unsure of what to do. My brain had come up with an excellent plan, though… I was still scared. These past few days had taken its toll on my body. I was not going to remain the hard-headed lawyer I had been - I couldn't.

I felt like a little girl, lost and alone in a thunderstorm. Despite the only real danger being the chance of catching a cold, everything else seemed worse. The rain, the lightning, the wind howling like a tormented ghost - everything seemed worse than it actually was. I wanted so badly… to just stop, and fall to the floor, crying out for help. Cry out and then wait for someone to do something, for a light in the darkness to come and save me.

I couldn't. I knew what I had to find within myself - I knew who I had to be if I wanted to survive this puzzling ordeal. I had to be the person I was when I was being threatened by someone, the person that wasn't afraid to take a challenge. The person, that could stop and think like the Joker.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, digging my nails into the fabric of my coat. After a minute or two of listening to nothing except myself breathing, I turned my body around, facing the large window of my office. I glanced down, scanning the expansive city below. There were so many people, so many places to hide. Not that any person in their right mind would covet the Joker willingly - but the point was that he was out there, somewhere. Doing whatever it was he wanted to do, or whatever amused him. I felt the putrid acid in my stomach, boiling, irritating the rest of my body.

Every time I thought of him, something went wrong within my body. I couldn't be sure what caused it… or maybe I was just avoiding the answer. What did the Joker want with me? What was he planning to do? Was he just saying all this completely illogical stuff to frighten me? Get me worried that he was going to torment me and take my life? Or was there actually a point?

There had to be. He was brilliant - but in the worst, most sadistic way possible. I shivered suddenly, and shook my head back and forth violently, hair flying around my shoulders as I did so. I spun on my heels, and stomped towards the door, already extending my hand for the light switch.

As the pad of my middle finger felt the cool plastic and pressed down, I could have sworn I heard a dark, hissing cackle.


	12. Chapter 12: Party

_Alright everyone, here's Chapter 12. I know a few of you were all 'party-curious' and here's some of it; Though, I promise, the party is far from being over. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, watched me and favorited me! By the way, if you're just reading and not reviewing, c'mon -- do it! I won't bite you or anything, and I love reading your reviews, they're wonderful!! **LOVE, LOVE, LOVE TO YOU ALL!**_

_**Laurenmbl: **Thank-you soooo much! I'm utterly pleased that you're enjoying my story, and how I word it. Hopefully, you enjoy this chapter as much as you do the other ones! Looking forward to hearing from you again!! :)_

_**rikkuhurst:** She does, she really does. Michelle wants to end this crazy adventure once and for all. And I know what you mean, but hey... leading people on, having them expect one thing and then turn into another thing is good right? Its what the Joker would do. ;) Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!! _

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Strings of small white lights covered the massive walls, raining down in an illuminating curtain. The glass doors, which extended from the floor to the ceiling on the far side of the room, were crystal clear, giving a breath-taking view to the city below. Along the sides of the room, there were a few tables, covered in a long, white elegant table cloth. Atop every one there was a thin, winding vase which held a single red rose, and a tray of delicate champagne flutes was arranged, waiting for the bubbly liquid to be poured in.

Letting out a nearly inaudible sigh, I strolled across the waxed floors, gazing momentarily down at my reflection in the polished tiles. My body was covered in a jade green evening gown that fluttered all the way down to my feet, leaving only a peek of my black heels underneath. Like everything else in the room, I was giving off the professional, elegant glisten - but underneath, full of deceit and devious plotting. All the guests that would be arriving momentarily, would find this room and myself entirely enchanting. To Bruce, Gordon, Rachel and myself, it would be a mere stage. A stage in which we would act out the final play that would wrap up The Joker's antics.

"Michelle."

I turned around to meet Bruce, sporting a very snazzy suit, casual enough to not seem like he was going to a wedding or something of the sort - but not too formal. But, that was Bruce's style for you - always perfect for every situation. I supposed though that being one of the cities most pristine, classy billionaires allowed that.

"So, the story is…" He trailed off. We had gone over it several times, but I assumed once more couldn't exactly do us harm.

"You're throwing a party for me… and celebrating my success as a lawyer. Something around those lines."

He nodded once and smiled, confirming that he would handle the rich host part of the party, that was, until he was needed in other roles. We shared a secretive smile as we stood back, admiring everything. I had a feeling we were both thinking the same thing, that even beauty had its dark side - as this scene proved. Bruce though, I imagined had a little more on his plate.

Just then, from behind us, I heard the quiet click-clack of Gordon's shoes, and turned to see him, followed in by a few men and women from the police department, each and every one dressed in something classy and showy, perfect. Of course, they came accordingly to their own ideas of party, not knowing they were all in on a mass joke.

_Ooh, a joke. Ha, ha, ha._

Gordon made his way over to us, smiling widely at Bruce. Three partners in crime all stood, welcoming the guests as they arrived. Everyone gave me either a congratulatory smile or a word of admiration as they entered, pausing by my small group for a minute before continuing. Though it wasn't completely honest, all the compliments and encouragements were pleasing. If anything, they gave me confidence for tonight's events.

Eventually, after a few more introductions, two of which included Rachel and Harvey, Bruce grabbed my attention, gesturing to the champagne over on the other side of the room. I nodded quickly, and assured Rachel that I would see her later on tonight, then hurried after Bruce, picking my dress up slightly.

I assumed the champagne offering was just an excuse to get away from Rachel and Harvey -- be it a pitiful one or not. There was no doubt in my mind that seeing the two of them together hit a sore spot, as it normally would with anyone else. I had the luxury of not having to worry about the horrid emotion named jealousy, and seeing Bruce's internal, romantic-derived turmoil, I was very thankful for that. If I pulled away, and looked at it from another point of view, perhaps, someone who did not know Bruce quite as well, I wouldn't have detected anything. He was very good at covering his emotions. No pun intended; but he was very good at masking them.

I had thought about Bruce Wayne quite a bit in my days, wondering all sorts of things. I was intuitive, I was almost always right when it came to detecting a certain emotion, and with Bruce… that was more or less a mystery. How was he so successful in hiding his true feelings, unless it was someone he truly cared about? Did he rely on the strength of Batman for that?

If he did, that strength was deteriorating quickly; as the Joker continued to meddle with the demand for his true identity. Tonight though, I swore that this would all end. I wasn't doing this for Bruce, I wasn't doing this for Gotham. Call me selfish, but I was doing this for me. I wanted nothing more than to get him, unravel him, and then hand him over to Gordon and his men. Then, they could do whatever they pleased to him. I couldn't care less anymore.

Could I?

"Could you what?" Bruce's voice pulled me out my mental caverns.

I blinked, shooting him a strange look. Oh, now he was capable of reading people's minds as well? "Excuse me?"

"You said, 'Could I?'."

Preventing myself from further saying anything, I bit down on my tongue and shook my head gently, glancing at the floor. "Nothing, I'm just… muttering nonsense."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bruce take a step closer. He reached out, and slipped his fingers under my chin, lifting it up to look into my eyes. As I'm sure he could with mine, I could see the tired, grayed look in his eyes; all the stress and worry piling up. Though still, with him, there was a glimmer of excitement, like a little boy in a candy store. Both of us knew this could potentially be the night all this madness -- no pun intended -- would end.

Until that moment, I hadn't realized exactly how close Bruce and I were standing. Mere inches apart, even! The blood rushed to my head, though I still made no movement of parting, and remained in close proximity to him; hoping that he had something to say.

I was right.

"Michelle, I want to thank you. You've been climbing up the popularity level, and you're wonderful at what you do."

I blinked, staring up at him like a little child, being scolded. I didn't know why the thought of Bruce complimenting me was so foreign or strange, but it was. There was many a thought running through my head at the moment, and have a romantic scene with Bruce Wayne was not one of them. Not… now, at least. This was not the time to introduce a secret love interest; one that wouldn't be very secret for long, I imagined.

"Thank-you, really. I'm only doing what I love." I replied, trying to sound aloof.

Bruce's lips parted to say something, when another voice cleared its throat and entered the conversation.

"Mind if I… cut in?" He said, as though we were dancing, and he wanted a moment with me. Without looking at the man, Bruce nodded, shot me a small grin and stepped the side, preparing himself to associate with our guests. I turned my attention to the man who had requested a minute with me, and smiled politely. His head was bowed, his hair hidden in some sort of hat. Odd, I thought, normally people don't wear hats to parties -- unless it was part of their attire, fit with what they were wearing, and this certainly did not.

Clad in a black suit, he almost fit in with everyone else, looking wonderfully formal. At first, he made no motion to do anything and instead, just stood there, like a statue. I glanced around nervously, and scanned the crowds. A few people had picked a dance, swaying gently to the faint classical tunes. Perhaps he did want to dance.

"Is everything… alright?" I prodded, craning my neck down to see his face. He snapped his head up, making me jump. I let out a breathy yelp and placed my hand just beneath my collarbone, catching my breath.

"Do you dance?" He asked, adjusting his lips as he said it.

"I - well, yes--" Before I even finished, his hands were in position, one gripping my hand, the other tucked right into the curve of my waist. If I hadn't been so confused, I very well might have slapped it away and scowled at his forwardness. I narrowed my eyes as he lifted his face higher, his eyes burning into mine. We started swaying, and I felt the initial clench -- down there -- that made my skin crawl.

Something about the way he was holding me didn't feel right, I didn't have a name on this guy. Yet, I didn't consider myself in danger -- not in the middle of a giant party. His feet were moving, and we were slowly dancing away from the champagne table, towards the middle of the room, and then off to the side. A few people got the idea, and too began dancing. That wasn't my objective. They obviously couldn't see the terror in my eyes and if they did… I had no idea what they mistook it for. Excitement? No, not possibly. I knew something was wrong.

My eyes scanned the room for Bruce, he was on the opposite side of the room, laughing and smiling, socializing away. I wasn't even sure he knew I had been thrown into a whirling dance session with this guy.

He released his hand from my side, but tightened his grip on my hand. He spun me around, twice quickly, the once slowly. Hard. The twirls had a certain rhythm to them, almost like a drum. He did it again, and my head felt as though there was liquid swishing around inside. My stomach clenched and I felt the hot, repulsive feeling of nausea climbing its way up. His muscles tensed, wherein he jerked me close to his body. I collapsed on his shoulder, gasping and attempting at pacifying my stomach.

Even as I was resting on his shoulder, the room was spinning, thrumming to the same rhythm his twirls had had. I heaved, felt the warm liquid crawl up my throat, and forced it back down, slapping my eyes shut. I hadn't thrown up in years, and the remembrance of the feeling wasn't too nice.

"Are you… ah, dizzy?"

We were close to the windows; I could feel the cool waves radiating off them. Outside, the fresh air sounded impeccably good -- but I couldn't find my voice enough to cut our dance short and step out there. My lips felt numb, as though they no longer lips, but bags of Novocain, swirling around and removing feeling from every inch of my face. Somehow, he adjusted both my head and his own, to wear the skin of our cheeks were pressing against one and other.

"Answer me." He said, his cheek moving as he spoke. The skin grinded against my own, and left what felt like an oily, powdery smear on my skin. Wait, wait. Grinded? Skin doesn't grind. I opened my eyes. Skin never grinds, not unless there's something wrong with it. Then, as the vomit had moments before, something else began ascending it's way up my stomach, my throat, gripping on with thick claws that felt as though they were ripping my inner flesh to shreds.

I forced myself to move away from him, using all my upper body strength to push off his shoulders. Bracing myself, I looked at his face, which he was showing freely now. But before I could focus on that, I focused on the fact that my back was pressed against the glass, the chill seeping into the fabric of my dress.

Swallowing, I averted my eyes back to him, turning my head slowly to face him. His face looked plastic, like a mask. It was covered in a thick, opaque foundation, like he had reapplied several times. Especially around the mouth. My pupils dilated as I reached up, and slid my fingers down my cheek.

The pads, the part where I had touched my cheek, was a few shades lighter than my skin. I looked up, zeroing in on the man's right cheek. Then I looked at my fingers again. Then, back up at his cheek. The skin there… the _true_ skin was circled by the makeup. I could see the lines where the makeup had stopped and his real skin had started. But that didn't bother me quite as much as the next thing.

The skin there definitely had something wrong with it; hence the grinding. It wasn't some foreign disease. Something wrong, that I had seen before. My breath whooshed out of me. I snapped my hand up, and pressed my middle finger right next to my lips on the left side. Faint, but still detectable -- I stroked the tiny scar there.

He laughed. Oh yes, _he_ laughed.


	13. Chapter 13: Descent

_Short, short, I know. Sorry everyone; but I'm sure you all can cut me some slack -- considering it's 4:22 in the morning. Anyways, this chapter is pretty intense, though its tiny in size, its big. Big turning point if you will. Also, the last narration part; I don't do the Joker. I leave that to better people. Ignore it, don't comment on it, blah, blah. As always, I don't own anything except Michelle Daaaanvers._

_**Laurenmlb:** Well, he spun her fast and hard -- and along with the combination of realizing there was something completely wrong about this guy, it was pretty easy for her to get nauseated. Anyways, thanks so much for all your wonderful reviews; they keep me going!!_

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And I thought the room was spinning before. Now, it was whirling as fast as some thrilling carnival ride, that was oh-so entertaining until you wanted to lose everything you had eaten in the last three days. All the fun in this situation had drained out, like someone pulled the plug.

My heart deflated, along with my courage, inspiration and everything else in my body. Not only was my night completely ruined, my devious plan had come crashing down. How could he possibly have known? And why would he go to such extremes as wearing no makeup, getting dressed up, and dancing with me? No, no, no. This was all wrong -- completely, completely wrong.

I swallowed back my fear, still staring into the Joker's eyes. They were dark and amused, like the eyes of a little child who had just gotten away with stealing one too many cookies from the cookie jar. Unfortunately, this child was a few cookies short of a whole cookie jar. I glanced around me. Nobody was watching us, and the couples who had picked up on my faulty offer to dance were still swirling and whirling around like they were being filmed in some fairy-tale movie. Oh, it was so happy!

In their world.

"You look surprised. Didn't think I'd know about your little… plan? Didn't think I'd figure it out, hah? Well, you're wrong. And…" He paused, and jerked his arms out, holding them out like his body was some sort of trophy that I had been longing for. "Here… I… am."

Still, nobody looked. Why now did every human being in this ballroom have to be oblivious? Out of all the times they were alert… now, they chose not to poke their noses in other's business. Lucky, lucky me.

"You won't get away with this, you know."

"Really?"

"Yup; this was all planned out -- game's over, clown."

"Did you just… did you just call me a clown?" He smirked, his lacerations stretching and pulling on his skin. I flinched. Not a pretty sight.

"Yes, I did. Because that's what you are. You're nothing but a big… cowardly asshole of a clown."

"Oooh, bad choice of words, beautiful."

His hands were suddenly slithering forward and at first, I thought he was going to grope my… you know. But, I was wrong. They planted themselves on my shoulders, palms of his hands pressing against my collarbone. Everything was in slow motion for a mere second, and then it sped up.

His eyes glittered; and chills ran up my spine.

Now, time went fast. My lungs sucked in air, and I let out a deafening scream. Finally, everyone turned and looked. The Joker laughed and jerked my body backwards, my back slamming into the glass window. It shattered behind me, shards of it slicing the fabric and puncturing my skin. People screamed, some stepped forward to catch me, others stepped back in fear.

The last thing I saw was Bruce. His emotive eyes were wide, pained and angry.

"MICHELLE! NO!"

And I fell. I fell faster than I'd like to admit. The wind rushed up at me, my limbs flailing, fabric fluttering. Faster, faster, faster. And then, I hit something. I wasn't sure what it was, but it hurt. It felt like metal; it was cool. Like a limp doll, my body slithered to a harder surface, one that I could actually identify as the…

_Oooh, ouch. That's gonna'… hurt in the morning. _I stepped towards the window, and peered down. Faintly, and I mean faintly -- she was like a little spec of nothing, a little ant under my shoe -- I could see her. There. She wasn't moving. Ooh-eee-ha-ha.


	14. Chapter 14: Rooftop

_I'm baaaack, everyone! Apologies for the aggressively expansive gap in between posts; life has been hectic. Everything from spending a delightful weekend with a real live Joker to having my computer nearly kill itself -- its been nutty. Anyways, here's Chapter Fourteen, and hopefully, it's as dramatic for you all as it was for me. Sorry if its a tad confusing, I'm in a bit of a limbo with what to do in the next few chapters. I'm thinking there might be a sequel! :D Anyways -- read and review, and give me your ideas on what **you** think should happen. _

_Also, I had to narrate this part differently, because... well, of the obvious. But, next chapters, Michelle will return, and you'll be back in her head! Thanks so much everyone! Love, love._

* * *

The cool breeze that slithered through the air, rising and falling with the air pockets, blanketed Michelle's limp body, clad only in the tattered remains of her evening gown. Strips of delicate, black silk fluttered in the wind, dripping over the side of the building. One hand dangled over the side, as well, the cement edge digging into the top of her wrist.

Michelle's skin was scintillating gently, an eerie glow radiating off her. Though the clouds swathed the moon almost completely, whatever light was still visible filtered down onto her body, luminescent rays washing over her skin. Her full lips were parted slightly, oxygen slipping from the small space between them. Michelle was breathing slowly.

Below her, the automotive activity was dwindling, the cars and walking people becoming more and more scarce as the hours progressed on, later and later into the night. From down there, nobody would have seen her limp hand, or even thought to look up on the rooftops of buildings. Why in the world would there be a human being up there? Exactly.

Another breeze whistled by, and the way the fabric rustled and fluttered could have been mistaken for some consciousness within her, and she was moving. The dark figure crouched next to her was convinced momentarily. However, upon glancing at her, to see that her body was still dead still, his hopes were diminished. His masked eyes glanced down at the city, just begging that freak to show himself – or some means of himself. An explosion, some dramatic sequence of events would do just fine. Anything that could bring him closer.

He glanced over at the unconscious form of Michelle once more before clenching his fists and setting his jaw. He had tried many times to revive her. In fact, he'd done everything he could imagine that would bring her back. Though the thought battered around in his head, he desperately refused it, suppressing all the anger and pain he knew he'd feel if it was true; she could be dying. The small glitter of life that was present in her now, could be disintegrating slowly... and it wouldn't be long before she slipped away, murdered by the one person she had any interest in.

_The only way she could die by injury was if she hit her head. The heating vent broke her fall. I felt every part of her. Nothing else but cuts and maybe a few broken bones. Michelle isn't dead._

Suddenly, there was the sound of gentle crunching; the only sound he knew as the sound of weight being putting on feet, crunching on the dirty cement of the very roof they were on. Instinctively, his fists clenched, and he ground his teeth together, setting his jaw viciously. Finally.

"You know Batty, I'm disappointed in you. You're so... predictable."

"You're garbage, Joker."

"HAH! What have I told you about trying to be someone you're not, hah?"

And then, like a dog responding to it's master, Michelle's luminescent green eyes shot open, her eyelids slamming into the back of her head. For a moment, she did nothing but stare up at the orange-tinted sky, an effect of all the city lights. Then, as though this was very strenuous and took a lot of effort, she rocked her head to the side and stared at him. Her motions were shaky and unnatural; the only part of her body that was moving steadily was her chest, which rose slowly, and then fell quickly as each breath slipped out of her.

"Good morning."

"Don't talk to her. Don't even look at her." Batman's guttural voice made Michelle flinch. The Joker arched an eyebrow and held out his hands as though he was saying, 'And what are you gonna' do about it?'

"Dan-vers. Look. At. ME."

Michelle responded by blinking and closing her lips. Perhaps this was the only physical reaction she could achieve. Batman looked behind him for a mere second; though that was enough for Joker. Slipping a long, thin object out of the depths of his pockets, Joker slammed his body into Batman's, causing his armored body to wobble dangerously close to the edge. Like a little top, balancing on the edge of a tabletop – Batman fought to push Joker backwards, in which he finally succeeded in doing.

Still laying on the ground like a forgotten toy, Michelle looked up behind her, watching. The second Joker was pushed off Batman, he went flying backwards, stumbling slightly but regaining his balance quickly. She watched in horror, unsure of what to do, or who she should help. Batman, now he was the masked marauder, who normally could fend for himself. But, every now and then, even Batman needed help.

A light rain began to fall, misting them gently. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Through the night clouds, Michelle scowled absentmindedly at the ominous rain clouds. The two of them continued their battling dance, not stopping to comment on the sudden weather change. Michelle however, tried to move, swinging her arm around like a crane. Batman called upon all his weight and managed to shove the Joker off of him and into a nearby door – the one that had led down into the building. Michelle vaguely remembered Batman kicking the door open as he cradled her in his arms. The clown's heavy body slapped against the wet door, splashing in the downpour streaming from the curving roof of the door.

Like someone had just thrown her own body against that wall, Michelle winced. Making a pitiful noise, she dug her nails into the crackled rooftop, pulling herself away from the edge and towards the two of them. Batman didn't look at her, but Joker did. His eyes glinted with a manic, sadistic curiosity like a playful, little animal, unsure of whether or not to approach a larger animal, but one that looked oh-so harmless and oh-so fun.

The surface of her nails, cracked and split as she drug herself along. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knew she was ruining this dress, and grazing her stomach with small, burn-like cuts. She couldn't care, she didn't have to. One slender, shaking head jerked out, and tugged lightly on Batman's cape. At first, she wasn't sure if he felt it because his attention was occupied by pressing Joker's neck to the door with his broad, muscular forearm. Finally though, he turned and looked down, ignoring the wiggling clown for a moment. She was on the ground, gazing up at him like a hurt child, begging for attention.


	15. Chapter 15: Accomplishments

_This is painfully short, I'm aware. But, I haven't updated in a long time, so I thought before you all forgot about me, I'd give you a little something-something to hold you over. I'm discussing plot lines with my -- ahem -- associates, and deciding on the final bits of this story. Sooooo... enjoy. It won't be as long next time, I promise. Thanks to everyone that added me to their watch/favorite lists!!! Love, love. _

* * *

"Please... no. Don't..." My voice was foreign, it didn't sound right. I looked up into that mask, and saw the soft, expressive eyes of Bruce Wayne – my friend. I didn't see the Batman, I don't know why everyone else did. "Bat...man." I muttered, struggling to pull myself up and off the ground. I wasn't even sure what I was begging him not to do. I couldn't find the answer in myself. But whatever it was, it was severely upsetting me.

I had to call upon every ounce of strength in my slim figure to get up and on my feet. Even then, I shook like a leaf in a storm. My legs wobbled and it felt like someone had replaced plaster and stone with jell-o underneath my feet. I noticed several things at once. There was something serious in Bruce's eyes – more or less, in the way he looked at me. Behind the mask and through the disguise, I saw his mind working and something else working as well. Somewhere inside me, buried away like a chest, I knew what it was. But, my brain refused to make the connection. "Please... Batman... Please, stop."

"Ooh-hoo-hoo – look! She's defending me, the little attorney doesn't want me to----glllaccck." Batman cut off Joker's sentence by pressing his arm deeper into his throat, goading a saliva-coated jerk from Joker. The clown's hands found themselves around Batman's forearm, where he pulled up slightly, giving himself some space. Then, Batman snapped his head around again, and looked back down at me. "Stop what?" His husky, deepened voice fell down on me. Though the answer was on the tip of my tongue, I could not force myself to answer. I didn't know what it was I was asking him to stop. Hurting Joker? No. I had wanted to do that myself several times. But, did I still want to do it?

I looked up at him, with the same pitiful eyes, brimming with big, fat clear tears. The bottom of my vision got blurry as they continued to well up. I saw Batman look at me, I saw Joker look at me. Joker didn't seem to care quite as much as Batman did, but that figured. I wasn't surprised. I never would be, even if somewhere in the sick, twisted side of me that Joker himself had created, I wanted him to surprise me... just once.

"What... what do you think you're going to accomplish by killing him?" I blurted suddenly, wiping the tears with the back of my hand.


	16. Chapter 16: Choices

_I'm baaaack! Alright - here's another long-awaited chapter. I'm sorry for the length; Lately, I've been horribly busy and can't write a good, massive chapter for the life of me. I had to interpret that little scene, and sorry for dragging it on so long. :/ All the next chapters will be much faster, and I'll update soon!! _

_Read and review, lovelies! I LOOOOVE hearing what you guys think! Kisses. -M.  
_

* * *

"He won't terrorize us, anymore. The crime will die with him."

I sniffed again, regaining my composure. "You honestly think there won't be others after him? He won't be the end of all crime." I heard Joker scoff, and the slapping of his lips moving in one of his... calmly, amused expressions. I needed to stop – I needed to stop trying to defend the Joker, to save his life. But I couldn't. I couldn't let him die –

_Batman has one rule._

"You won't kill him."

Batman's empty eyes stared at me, harsh and unemotional. There was nothing, nothing anyone could detect as a human feeling. "I'm considering breaking it."

"You can't. That's your one rule, you never broken it before, why would you now? Because," I paused, brushing off some of the bloody gravel that had embedded itself in the skin of my arm. The cool air stung it, but not enough to deter my attention from the present. "Because you're afraid. That's why everyone wants you to give in, to take off your mask and let the Joker win. Because they're afraid. Because he's created a real challenge for the people of Gotham, for you. Its not because you can't beat him – or because you don't think you have the power, you're just afraid. Afraid of letting those three or four people die."

"Five." Joker put in, arching his eyebrows. I glared, my face hot, and corrected myself. "Five people, excuse me." I knew the correction wasn't necessary in making Batman feel better, but then again, I had never been an ego stroker. I would tell it like it was, and not add or subtract anything for the sake of hurting someone's feelings. I cleared my throat, waiting for an answer.

"And next, Harvey's little bunny..."

Batman's head swiveled around, staring harshly into his enemy's eyes. "What did you do with her?"

"And Harvey, Gotham's White Knight is there too."

"WHERE ARE THEY!?"

A cackle that resembled a little child's laugh, only darker, and rougher spilled out of the Joker's mouth. If possible, I heard the grinding of Bruce's teeth, enamel scraping against enamel viciously. In a flash, faster than the human eye could break down, Batman removed his arm from Joker, and threw him behind him. Joker went skidding across the roof, and stopped inches behind me.

"The attorney's distracting you, but you have to choose. There's not much time, her life, or his."

"WHERE ARE THEY!" His cape flowed out behind him as he strode fluidly over.

It wasn't a question, more a convictive command that demanded an answer or would have suffer the consequences of silence. "I'm going to tell you where they are. Both of them." Batman waited, hovering over him like predator and prey. When another second passed, Batman reached up, clutching Joker's collar cruelly. He shook him once, and waited, his breathing heavy through his whitened teeth. Joker licked his lips and revealed the addresses.

The sound of blood pulsating through my ears was deafening. Batman let go, letting Joker fall to the floor. "Rachel," he said, and with that, he was gone, leaving nothing but the silent swish of a black cape. I was alone, once again, with the Joker. My energy level was fading, I'd figured my stamina had taken a serious hit when I fell countless stories to what should have been my death. The Joker was constantly cheating death, and so it seemed, was I.


End file.
